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merakiui · 17 days

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angels in tibet.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, obsession, abo/omegaverse (alpha azul & omega reader), knotting, brief implications of breeding, mirror sex, sugar daddy, age gap (azul is 50 and reader is 24) note - while experiencing a nasty bout of low self-esteem, you fear azul has lost interest in you. on the contrary, he can't get enough.

I’m not sure about this…

You fidget in front of the horizontal mirror, tugging at the sheer material of your violet babydoll. It’s a beautiful piece, matched with a pair of dainty, crotchless panties, but there’s something about it that doesn’t fit right. Will this make you more irresistible? Were you irresistible to begin with? Maybe you’re worrying over nothing. Azul is a very handsome alpha, looking as affluent as he sounds and smells. It’s natural he would receive all kinds of compliments. Having attended dozens of dinner dates with him throughout the year, you’ve grown accustomed to the occasional interruption—an omega overwhelmed with his presence or an alpha hoping to gain another wealthy connection.

Compared to the exquisite company he keeps, you feel worthless—a speck of nothing versus a brilliant something.

A gentle knock at the door shakes you from your self-conscious spiraling. You pat yourself down to give your anxious hands a mindless task.

“J-Just a moment!”

“Is everything all right?”

You glance at yourself in the mirror once more. “Yes, I’m fine! I’ll be out in a second.”

“There’s no rush. Take your time.”

Steeling your nerves, you swallow razored insecurities and reach for the knob.

Stop thinking about it. Lots of omegas approach him all the time. It’s the same for alphas and betas. Sometimes they approach me, too. You crack the door open and nervously step out into the bedroom. But he looked so happy when that one omega was talking to him…

Azul’s cerulean hues snap up to view you from where he lounges on the end of bed loveseat. His stare trails up the length of your legs, assessing every inch of you as if you’re a rare gemstone and he’s a skillful lapidary. You cover the distance to reach him, suddenly shy.

He runs his hands up your arms once you’re within reach. “I was right to assume that set would look stunning on you.”

“You’re always right,” you say with a superficial giggle, admiring his dusky eyeshadow behind the lenses of his glasses. You swipe his hair aside and lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. “It’s nice. Thank you for the gift.”

Azul hums his acknowledgment. His hands crawl along your sides, grabbing at your hips. You allow yourself to be pulled down to his height, his thigh between your legs. Your bare pussy brushes against beige trousers, and it sends a pleasant shiver up your spine. His fingers dance across skin, searing in the same way his lips are when they ghost over the juncture between shoulder and neck. He licks and nips at the area for a moment before withdrawing slightly, his tongue free of the bitter, medicinal taste of suppressant gel.

“No blockers?”

“It’s fine. I’m with you, and my heat isn’t scheduled for another week.”

“What makes you think I won’t give into libertine impulse?”

At the sly implication that he’d mark you as his, you feel a fresh bout of slick pool between your legs, leaking out onto his thigh and wetting fine fabric. Azul notices this and chuckles.

“Y-You wouldn’t,” you manage through your embarrassment, shifting awkwardly.

“Is that right?”

“You probably want a better omega o-or a strong alpha. Someone like yourself.”

Azul, who had contented himself at your neck, pulls back to look at you. His hands settle upon your waist to hold you still—to prevent you from wriggling away.

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing… I just assumed—well, you’re…you. I’m me.”

He frowns, easily reading between the lines. “Do you find yourself undesirable?”

“You’re popular. Rich. Good-looking… You could have anyone you want.”

“Variety means nothing if it doesn’t include my favorites.”

“I’m your favorite?”

“Such disbelief… Is it really so surreal?”

“But I’m nowhere near your level.”

“Who said you had to be?” Azul takes your hand and brings it to his lips. He kisses the top of it. “You’re perfect as you are, mio tesoro.”

You spend a long minute watching him. He can’t really mean that. Azul isn’t your boyfriend or your alpha. He’s the parody of one—a sugar daddy who spoils you with luxurious trips and hefty allowances, and in return you offer your time, companionship, and body. Tonight is no different. Just another dinner as per the arrangement. Another night spent in a high-rise hotel. Another transaction.

“You don’t mean that,” you say, ice crystallizing each word. “You’re just saying that.”

“I have no reason to lie.” He glances past you at the tall floor mirror, an idea sparking in lust-lidded eyes. “I’ll prove it.”

His intentions are lost on you, even more so when he moves you off of his leg and onto the cushions below. You sit with your back against the bed, a concoction of curiosity and caution bubbling within you. You can smell him, crisp like a new car, the musky, unforgettable scent of salt and sage. Before you can ask, he lowers to his knees and parts your legs to get a look at your dripping pussy.

“So eager…” he muses, his breath fanning across your folds. You bite back a whine. “And it’s all for me.”

“All yours. Always yours.”

Another wave of alpha arousal blankets the room, thick like smoke. You realize he’s done away with his scent blockers for tonight. Could that explain your territorial jealousy and dampened mood? Is it because it’s bothersome to think that another omega expressed so much desire towards Azul—that they were treated to his enticing smell even though it’s a luxury often reserved for you? Is it really his money you’re after or something grander?

You want to think it’s the former.

It must be, right? There’s no way it could be the latter. You’re just caught between fantasy and reality, bordering a beautiful illusion garnished with the impossible.

Azul’s fingers dig into the soft pudge of your inner thighs, spreading them further despite your weak attempt to shut them. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“Don’t hide from me, principessa. It’s nothing I haven’t seen already.”

“Still…” You flinch when he presses the pads of his fingers against your slit.

“What’s the matter?” He lifts his hand for you to see. Your slick clings to his digits in dewy strands. “You’re so wet for me, and yet you seem…distracted.”

“It’s nothing. I’m thinking.”

“About?” When you refuse to answer, he leans in to lick a languid stripe up your cunt. You slacken against the bed, a gasp rattling through your lungs. Azul makes a dramatic show of licking his lips clean. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me, bambolina.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, worrying your lip between your teeth, as you debate your next admission. Rather than say it outright, you tiptoe around it with a shaky mumbling: “D-Do you usually call other omegas by pretty names?”

“Just you.”

“Just me?”

“Have I not been unfalteringly faithful to you all this time?”

“You have. I’m just wondering…”

Azul waits for you to finish that sentence. When it becomes obvious you’ve lost it, he fills in the blanks. “I thought of you all throughout tonight’s dinner. So much it nearly spoiled my appetite.”

Unconvinced, you crack your eyes open to glimpse him. His head is between your legs, lips centimeters from your cunt, and it leaves you wilting once more. He looks good on his knees in his fancy suit. You wish he was yours.

What a dangerous wish.

Azul meets your stare. He removes his glasses and hands them off to you.

“Be a dear and hold these for me.”

“Looks like a new pair.”

“I thought I’d try circular frames again. What do you think? Fitting, no?”

“Very fitting. Like an old man.”

Azul’s grip on your thighs tightens ever so slightly. His voice comes out sharp and strained when he speaks next. “Is that so? I assure you I’m still plenty youthful.”

“You age like wine, Mr. Ashengrotto. The finest kind.”

“And your beauty is timeless.”

“You say it so easily, but do you mean it?”

“Most ardently.”

Your argument is stifled when he leans in to taste you again. This time, rather than retreat, he remains between your legs. His lips are warm and soft against your pussy, his tongue all too tempting as it trails over the area. A startled gasp slips past parted lips when he pushes in, and it isn’t long until you’re deflating against the bed.

Your doubtful thoughts are temporarily silenced, numbed with slow, slothful salacity. You grab fistfuls of his hair, tugging it tousled, and he groans in response to your harsh treatment.

“Ooh… Mmh, fuck…” You blink up at the ceiling, breathless.

Too good.

You push him closer to your crotch, to which he rewards you with a sloppy slurp of your slick. The obscenity of it all has you hot and aching, and you submit bonelessly to the bliss he provides as if you’re simply drifting down a calm river. Azul laps at your folds like a man parched. He hums his appreciative delight, each vibration shaking you to your core, and the sensations only serve to triple your pleasure when one of his hands slides over to find your clit. He tweaks it between two fingers just to listen to you come undone.

It takes everything in you not to crush him between your thighs. Although with how hungrily he fucks you with his tongue, you think he might enjoy the suffocation. He sets a sweet pace, one that has you grinding down against his mouth in a desperate attempt to reach your climax. You open your mouth to beg for more, but all that tumbles free are shaky gasps and low groans.

As if sensing your unspoken need, Azul draws his tongue out. A thin strand of saliva strings from your pussy and his lips, connecting both for a fraction. Just when you think he might’ve finished, he swaps his tongue for two fingers. They stretch you open while he nurses on your clit. Slowly, like he has all the time in the world in this opulent hotel room, he curls his slim digits inside you. They press against your walls, searching for the spongy spot that will have you seeing galaxies. Once more, you’re reduced to a foggy-headed mess.

In this room, where nothing else matters, it’s just you and him. There is no outside world. No other alphas, omegas, or betas who might distract him. No other factors that might convince him to toss you aside, to grow tired of you, to abandon you…

Azul takes full advantage of your woozy state, pumping his fingers in and out. Paired with the way he lavishes your clit with attention, it sends you spiraling into a sudden orgasm. You grip his hair forcefully, pin him in place, and gush on his face with a strangled moan. He stays between your legs to lick you through it, running his tongue across your folds to gather as much of your slick as possible. And then he’s pulling away to offer you a boyish grin, seeming quite proud of himself. It adds deceptive youth to his weathered features.

Blinking pleasured tears away, you gaze at him until his figure gradually gains clarity. His face is wet, glistening with your essence, and it fills you with newfound heat.

“That was quicker than I expected,” he says, his voice a playful purr. “Were you anticipating this? Or perhaps my technique is simply unmatched. You’ve always been so sensitive for—”

You move without forethought, grabbing at the jewel-encrusted lapels of his fashionable jacket to yank him up to your height. His blue eyes are blown wide, his mouth parted in the middle of a mute question, when you smash your mouth against his. It’s short and sloppy. You taste yourself on his tongue.

“So impatient…”

Recovering from the momentary startle with newfound cupidity, Azul surges forward for a real kiss. You breathe him in and come away with a noseful of pheromones. It spins your mind dizzy, banishes rationality to dark, desolate corners, and renders you addicted. You allow him to lick into your mouth to taste expensive wine in every crevice. You’re avaricious in your approach when you pull him closer, desiring to feel his weight against yours. He falls on top of you, his hands placed on either side of your head to keep himself propped, and you peer up at him through glazed eyes. It brings you smug satisfaction when you reach between your bodies to feel his erection straining against his pants.

Breathing hot and heavy, you scrabble to grab hold of his shoulders. “Kiss me again.”

“Aren’t you forward? If I didn’t know any better, I’d hazard a guess that you’re jealous.”

“I—” you clamp your mouth shut, debating your words, before opening it again— “I am. I want you all to myself. I want you to look at me and only me during our dinners. I hate when other omegas talk to you… It’s not fair. Why do you have to be so amazing?”

Your confession catches him off guard, for he blinks at you owlishly. The surprise doesn’t remain for long, though, because he quickly composes himself. A gentle smile graces his face next.

“It’s mere courtesy. I assure you I’ve thought of you the entire evening.”

“Just me?”

“Only you. At every hour of the day. Even when we’re apart.” His hand slides down to interlace with yours, and he leans closer to kiss both of your cheeks, one at a time. “I think of nothing else. Si il mio universo.”

“R-Really? So that… That omega who spoke to you—”

“They were kind, but I have no interest.”

You frown, suddenly perturbed. “But you could’ve if you wanted to. We’re not together in that way. There’s nothing stopping you.”

He raises a brow. “Is that what you want?” Your face falls further into dismay and he chuckles. “I don’t mind. You’re allowed to be greedy around me. I’m all yours tonight.”

But I want you forever.

Azul helps you up from the bed and leads you over to the mirror. You stare at yourself—at the you adorned in fleeting finery—and grimace. Is this really you? Is this who you want to be, an unclaimed omega stuck in a stagnant situationship?

“Tell me what you see,” he whispers, running his hands along your sides.

“Myself.”

“Anything else?”

“She’s a fool who’s jealous for no reason. For a dumb reason, actually.”

“‘Dumb’?” He scoffs. “No such thing.”

“But it is! It’s because—” I want to be yours. “I’m just being immature. I’m sorry. It’s ruining the mood.”

“Not at all.” Azul grasps your chin and turns your head towards the mirror. “When I look at you, I see in color. You make my world so indescribably vivid. Very few can accomplish such an impressive feat. You should be proud.”

“Why?”

“You’re a smart girl. I’d have thought you would’ve realized it by now.”

You track his hand like it’s a spider you’re hellbent on catching. Carefully, with keen intent. He speaks in honey-coated hauteur, as if anyone could’ve deciphered the meaning in his declarations, and it would’ve irked you if not for your distracting thoughts.

He’s never told me any of this before. Is he saying it to placate me? Or does he actually mean it?

The answer is right there. You just don’t want to believe it.

Rather, you can’t. It’s impossible.

“For the record, I disagree with all of this negative self-talk. You’re not dumb or immature. Not in my eyes.” His arms close around you from behind, and he laces his hands together at your front. “You are a goddess cut from the rarest cloth. A beauty brighter than light itself, mia stellina. Sometimes I wonder if I should lock you in a little cage. That way you’d shine for me. Just me.”

Laughter squeezes through your teeth. “You’re being more dramatic than I am tonight.”

“You think so? I’m only telling you what I see and how I see it.” Azul takes your hand and guides you back towards the loveseat. He lowers onto it and then tugs you onto his lap. Just like before, he directs your attention ahead. “Why should I covet others when you’re right here?”

“That’s just convenient. It’s because we’re using each other.”

“How cold… And I have been nothing but authentic in my adoration.”

“Yeah, right. We both know—” You squeak when he shifts you only slightly so that he can unbuckle his leather belt. It slides away from his waist, soon discarded on the bed. “Sure, it’s authentic, but that’s because it has to be. B-Because it’s part of our deal.”

“Is that what you think? Your oblivious nature is most endearing.” He hums, half-listening. You roll your eyes at that, to which Azul tuts. “We’ll have none of that. Here. Since you’re so keen to argue, why not help me out of my jacket as you mull over your next retort?”

Unamused, you turn to face him. He looks awfully pleased with himself as he stretches his arms out. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you undo the single button and gently peel the coat away from his person. It’s so silky, crafted from a material you’ve never known before, and you take care folding it for later. Azul watches you with a smile.

“I’m not arguing.”

“Is that not what we’re doing right now?”

“I’m just saying…” You huff, your cheeks puffed out in annoyance. “Ugh. You’re being so obtuse.”

“Why don’t you turn around and say that to your reflection instead? She needs to hear it more than I do.”

Begrudgingly, you comply with the first instruction. You lift yourself off of him just enough so that he can pull himself from his clothes. As for that second part, you treat it like a suggestion and keep your lips clamped stubbornly shut. Azul rumbles with laughter, affectionately pinching your cheek. You think he may have picked the habit up from his family. He’s spoken about them scarcely, but from what you’ve learned both his mother and grandmother have always had a knack for physical fondness. It’s cute that this gesture seems to run in his blood.

“Eyes open and ahead, mia bella ragazza. You deserve to witness just how charming you are as you come undone around my cock.”

Nodding mutely, your arousal heady, you line yourself up until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. One hand holds your waist to steady you while the other presses against your clit. You whine, legs trembling in anticipation, and lower yourself slowly.

“A-Azul—”

“Don’t look anywhere else. Ahead, tesoro,” he reminds you, kissing along your jaw. He reaches to procure his glasses from the bed, fitting them on his face one-handed.

Your body responds to those pleasant pet names without a shred of shame. Even though this isn’t your first time with him, you can’t stop your breath from hitching or your heart from skipping. For the sake of an easily ingested excuse, you deign to blame it on your upcoming heat. Why else would you be this desperate to feel him inside, as close as he can possibly get pressed up against you like this? Azul’s hand slides over your thigh to rub at your clit, and your walls flutter around every inch you’ve managed to take thus far.

You remember you’re meant to be watching yourself in the mirror then, so you gaze at your reflection. Azul’s voice is deep and gravelly in your ear, thrumming like thunder, when he murmurs his praise: “Good girl. Just like that.”

As if to further humiliate you, a testament to just how carnally you crave him, you clench tighter around him and whine pitifully. He chuckles and rewards you with a soothing smooch to your cheek. You heave a satisfied sigh once he’s slotted inside.

“Why do you want me to watch myself?” you ask, fighting through the haze while he busies himself with your clit. “Mmh…”

At this rate, you fear you might just somersault into your heat. Which, now that you’re considering it, wouldn’t be such a bad thing… Maybe he’ll give you a claiming bite, mark you as his omega, and then it’ll be a real relationship. Maybe the heat is the push he needs.

Don’t think about that sort of nonsense. He would never…

“I want you to take in every part of yourself,” he explains matter-of-factly, “and know that I will never trade you for anything.”

“But other omegas—” The words are choked off in a yelp when he thrusts up inside you.

“Are not you,” he finishes, a minacious edge in his tone. “What must I do to prove to you that I’m telling the truth?”

“You could—ah. Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m being unreasonable.” You shake your head. “Just… Just promise me. Please promise you won’t get rid of me.”

“Why, I would never! The mere assumption that I would stings… I feel as if I’ve just been slapped.”

“I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just… I… I know you’re allowed to see other people—and I am, too, of course—but I like being the only omega you spoil. I like feeling special.”

“And you are.” He squeezes your clit to draw another reedy moan from you. His other hand crawls up your side to slip under your sheer babydoll. He cradles your breast, kneading it gently. “You’re my special girl. That will never change.”

“O-Okay… I believe you.” Your lashes flutter when his fingers brush against your nipple. “You… Ooh… You can cum inside tonight. It’s safe. I think…”

A shadow passes over his face. As if your words have stoked some sort of possessive fire in him, he slips his hand out from under your lingerie to grab at your hip. All of his previous smooth, sultry edges harden into something rough. Fingernails dig into your flesh, leaving little half-moons in the forceful wake of his grip. Your tongue trips over itself at the sudden shift, but the treatment isn’t terrible.

“You know very well I’d take good care of you if that happened,” he mumbles, kissing the space just below your ear.

“If what happened?” you ask, playing stupidly innocent even though the image reflected back at you makes his implication more than obvious.

“Why don’t you start moving first? Then you’ll see exactly what I mean.”

You shudder, drunk off his pheromones, so potent they cloud your brain like smog, and shift in his lap. He groans lowly at the friction and it encourages you to move with confidence. You lower yourself, lift yourself halfway off, and then lower again. This is executed for three more jerky rotations before you slam yourself down in one go. Azul sucks in a breath. You don’t quite catch what he says. It’s a jumble of words in his native tongue. With the harshness dripping from every syllable, you think he’s saying some colorful words, each one brought on by the tight hold your pussy has on his cock.

“Perfect,” he manages next. You continue to bounce with reckless abandon. “You’re so—oh—so perfect. Ho bisogno di te… B-Bisogno—ah, no, need.”

You watch yourself, your ravenous gaze flicking from your pussy stretched around his cock to his hands glued to your hips to his head bowed near your neck. His canines are so close. Any closer and he could tear into you, bite you hard and deep enough to make you his.

“W-What was that phrase you taught me? The one about—haa—love… Not love, but sorta love.”

“Mmh… Which one? There are many, principessa… You’ll have to be more specific. Ti amo is ‘I love you,’ but that’s—nngh—not the one you’re looking for, is it?”

“The not-quite-love one… Um—oh! Adore… Adoro…”

“Aah, ti adoro.” He pronounces it in a pleased hum before breaking off with another groan. He drags your hips down to meet his when he bucks up into your gummy pussy. “If you’re saying it platonically, you would use ti voglio bene. Ti adoro is more intimate.”

“It sounds pretty when you say it.”

“Of course it does,” he brags, his ego satiated. “Why don’t you try pronouncing it?”

“Which one?”

“Whichever.” Azul kisses your scent glands and you mewl, your thoughts soupy and incoherent. “With such a tempting smell, I’m baffled you’re not yet mated. Ah, but you’re still young.”

“Hmm… Yeah, I just haven’t found the right person.” You place your hands over his. “W-What about you? Why haven’t you—”

He tuts. “Now, now. Before we get into that, I’d like to hear you say it. Ti…”

“Adoro. Ti adoro!”

“That’s right. Ben fatto, mia cara. You say it so sweetly.”

“I do?”

“Mhm.” He noses at your neck and sighs. “Sweet and musical.”

Relishing in the compliment, you tilt your head to reveal more of your throat. You roll your hips slowly, taking him in patient strokes. “I still think it sounds better coming from you.”

“Perhaps I should say it more often.”

“Please. Oh, please do. I wanna hear it always—every day!”

His teeth scrape your skin then. You brace yourself for a bite that never comes. Rather than allow your unmet expectations to dishearten you, you focus your attention ahead.

“I’ll send you a voice message when we’re apart.” His hands travel up your body, beneath lacy lingerie, and finally close around your tits. You watch him in the mirror, following his movements as he shamelessly fondles and gropes. “And when we’re together like this I’ll say it over and over. As many times as you’d like.”

Now it’s clear. He’s placed you on his own pedestal, admiring you like one might a sculpture. You aren’t the omega from dinner. You aren’t those alphas who hunger for his status. You’re unlike any of his other connections. You’re a personal treat he indulges in, a prized portrait he’s free to touch at his own discretion, and you allow it because he’s unofficially yours behind closed doors.

Part of you knew this all along. You just couldn’t see through your self-doubt.

“Thank you. I love—” You catch yourself, stumble over a gasp, and thank the stars for that. “I love your voice.”

Azul’s aged features soften with a smile. “And I love yours all the same. Why don’t you touch yourself so that I can hear more of it?”

You do just that, obediently circling your clit with two fingers. Amidst your own sounds, Azul’s groans, and the loud smack of skin on skin, it’s enough to bring you even closer to the edge. You’re almost there, nearly teetering over into the abyss, but then you stop.

“Wait… I want—wanna look at you.”

“You are. The mirror—”

“Not enough.”

Wordlessly, you peel his hands away and lift yourself off of him. Azul stares at you, awaiting your next move. Before you can regret your spontaneity, you hold onto his shoulders and position yourself to straddle him on the loveseat.

“I read about this and wanted to try it,” you admit as you sink down. Your relieved sigh joins Azul’s in unison. “I like looking at you. The real you. Not just your reflection.”

“You never cease to amaze me.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

With this proximity, you’re free to gaze into his powdery blues, trace every wrinkle beneath your fingers, adore him so intimately. Azul presses his forehead to yours, meeting your sultry stare. He wraps his arms around your waist, his palms settling against your lower back. No words are exchanged, but the intention is clear. You rock your body like the rolling tide, effortless and hypnotic, and he matches your lazy pace with grace. Now you’re breathing together—soft huffs between moans—and it’s a lustful duet that pairs well with the salacious squelch of your bodies.

Even though this moment will inevitably end, you never want to leave. You want to stay wrapped up with him, pressed close and breathing him in like he’s perfume. You want to bathe in his scent until it mixes with yours and marks you as something special. Something irrefutable. A bond that can never be broken.

“I wanna go on a trip,” you mumble absentmindedly, your mouth inches from his.

He steals a quick peck. “Do elaborate.”

“Not just any trip. A honeymoon—like a pretend honeymoon! I know it’s a lot to ask—”

“Nothing is ever too much. If I may, why a honeymoon in particular?”

“I just wanna know what it feels like.” You melt against him, your arms sliding away from his shoulders to loop around his neck. “Without having to go through the marriage part. That involves actually finding someone and falling in love and…yeah.”

“I understand. We can plan something.” Twin sapphires flick from your lips to your eyes and then back. “Shall I make you Signora Ashengrotto for the duration of our faux honeymoon?”

Your hips almost stutter to a halt, and you blink back at him in surprise. “Signora… Wouldn’t it be signorina?”

“If you were unmarried, yes. It applies because you’re young.” He flashes his teeth at you in a proud grin. “But in this scenario you’re all mine, Mrs. Ashengrotto. Thus, you’re signora.”

“Mmh… I like that. The sound of it…”

You sigh dreamily and close what little distance is left. Softly like swaying seagrass, it’s a meeting of mutual moods—of lust embellished with love. The two of you kiss like you’re starved, like you’re each other’s only source of oxygen, like this is your last night together. You’re in the clouds; euphoria is at your fingertips. Every drag of his cock coaxes you closer and closer to your climax, your body alight with a fiery urge. You don’t want to break this sinful spell and face a reality in which he isn’t yours. It’s too cruel.

So it’s a shame when he pulls you down without warning and, rather than bite your neck, sinks his pointed canines into your shoulder instead. You would’ve been content to let him claim you, but that idea is soon knocked from your skull when you feel warm, thick cum flood your walls. You snuff the urge to beg for more, dangerously avaricious. You’re sure that’s just a product of your encroaching heat. The normal, level-headed you wouldn’t dare beg him for a baby.

But a baby would give him a reason to keep you around, wouldn’t it?

I shouldn’t. He probably doesn’t want a family at his age… It would be wrong to force it.

Azul pulls away only slightly to speak. His attempt is muffled when you kiss him again. You lick your blood from his lower lip. It’s strong and metallic, staining the corner of his mouth a deep vermillion. He pursues, nibbling at your lip in return. And then, just as you roll your hips once more, you feel it—his knot swelling against your ass, fat and thick. All for you.

“I’m going to—”

“Yes! Oh, please—yes.” You shift in his lap, grinding down with a desperate sort of determination. “Please knot me. I want it. I’ve always wanted it.”

“Always?”

Your head bobs in a hasty nod. It was more of a private fantasy—a mental indulgence you delighted in during dreams. And now it’s happening. You’re so happy you could cry. Azul, upon seeing the light in your eyes, bucks up towards you in a sharp, sudden thrust. You suck in a breath through grit teeth and bore down. The push is heavenly and hellish all at once, a delicious pleasure-pained strain as your slick walls stretch to accommodate him.

“Almost… You’re doing well, tesoro,” he grunts, his brows pinched together with concentration and exertion.

To provide you with an extra shred of help, he massages your clit. And that’s all it takes. The rest of his knot pops inside, now connecting the both of you, and it leaves you feeling much fuller than you were before. Ecstasy crashes into you like a tumultuous wave, pulling you into a rushing current. It seems to happen in a flash. Collapsing against him, you dig your nails into his shoulders, your cunt clenching like a vise, and cum around his cock with a bawdy cry.

You don’t notice tears wetting your face until he’s lapping at the trickling trails. Azul coos at you in a lilting voice. This one is different from the patronizing tone he uses when he’s being playful. This one is intensely fond. “Oh, che brava ragazza. Molto buono.” He holds your face still and kisses each cheek. The wet smack of his lips on your skin brings you back to yourself. He brightens when you finally lock eyes with him. “There she is. My sweet girl, you’ve done so well.”

His flowery flattery warms the stone hearth that is your heart.

“Don’t let go of me. Stay here,” you plead even though you know that won’t be for another few minutes. You’re stuck together, and with this comes the delirium of mellowed rapture.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He runs his hand along your back, soothed in the same way you currently are.

You rest your head against his shoulder and inhale deeply. “You smell so good… Why aren’t you mated yet? I’m sure your mate would be happy to have you as their own.”

“I would hope so.”

“I’d be happy…t-to have someone to call my own! I think it’s a wonderful thing.”

“As do I.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

“I already have.” Something sly flickers in his gaze. It’s cold, creeping up your spine like a shadow. Without meaning to, you shiver. “And I’m not going to let her go. She’s always been mine. From the moment I met her, I was certain of this. She just can’t see it yet.”

You blink at him. His words play in loops, but you can’t comprehend his meaning.

Surely he’s not talking about…

You bark out a short laugh. “Stop messing around when we’re stuck together.”

“Aw. I thought it was plenty amusing.”

“Your sense of humor is so crooked!”

“Perhaps.” He pulls you flush against him and pets the bite on your shoulder. “My apologies for being so boorish.”

“Hm? Oh, that’s nothing. It’ll heal.”

“I do hope you feel better.”

“Ah, that… Sorry. I don’t know where my head was at earlier. Thanks for tonight, by the way. You’re too good to me.”

“I’d do anything for you. Never forget that.”

“What a scary sentiment…”

“Is that not a facet of love?”

“Depends. You don’t have to do everything for someone just to prove that you love them. And someone might not want that kind of love…”

“In the event of an unwilling spirit, I suppose the easiest solution is acceptance by way of entrapment.”

“What?”

“They say a room of glittering gold is still a cage even without the shackles. Perhaps there is no better love than the suffocating kind.”

“No way. That’s totally wrong!” You shake your head in amusement. “What a warped sort of love!”

“Is it? I’ve always believed this was most tangible—undeniable, even. Proof of one’s devotion.”

“That’s less romantic and more…obsessive. Don’t you think so?”

“There’s a phrase we sometimes say. Amore non è senza amaro.” You nod along, expecting the translation. But Azul merely smiles. “Well, I’m only saying such things to pass the time. Think nothing of it.”

“You really are an old man, speaking utter nonsense.”

“How you wound me with your slander!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Nonno,” you tease, winking.

Azul feigns hurt. “To think I would be called that at my young, young age… My heart crumbles.”

You smile. Maybe it really was nothing. Although I was sure that he… It’s not really my problem. We’re not even together.

Still, something is nagging at you. A heavy word despite being so little—merely three letters.

Yet.

We’re not even together yet.

Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

And yet, something tells you it’s not.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul #n/sfw #tw: abo #tw: omegaverse #tw: knotting #tw: age gap

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koqabear · 4 months

Text

Lamb To The Slaughter

♫: Gods & Monsters, Lana Del Rey

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

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

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

Word count: 15.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are wolves in the forest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come back to me safe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’re targeting you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m here to protect you.”

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

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

≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel nauseous. They’re toying with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out.”

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

“I said, get. Out.”

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

“Don’t expect any mercy from him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re safe with me— remember?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

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

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

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

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

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

794 notes · View notes

delirious-donna · 3 months

Text

For You [Hanma Shuji]

an: Pure self-indulgence as I've been sick the past few days and I'll use any excuse to continue my soft Shuji agenda...

pairing: Hanma Shuji x female reader

warnings: fluff, self-ship coded, reader has longish hair with a similar texture to Shuji’s, fluff, bit of a sick fic I guess, domesticity, soft shuji, suggestive if you squint, did I mention the fluff?

He didn’t know what to do. That much was evident from the white noise tumbling inside his head and the empty stare that roamed your apartment. Everything was as it should be, and at the same time, nothing was right.

Shuji hadn’t heard a peep from you in almost two days, and that was unheard of before now. He appreciated that you were not overtly clingy. You didn’t need to know his exact whereabouts at any given moment of the day, but you checked in now and then, and for the first time in his life, he looked forward to those moments. So when you went radio silent except for one cursory message in reply to his attempt at humour that you were ghosting him, worry settled heavily.

The smell was apparent the second he let himself in with the spare key you had gifted him months ago. Until now, he hadn’t had reason to use it, but there was no way he would allow another day to pass without knowing what was going on. Sickness–sweet and sour–lingered in the nose, an unmistakable smell.

What he found huddled in a nest of twisted blankets tugged at a heart he had not long grown to realise existed. A mass of tangled hair obscured most of your sleeping face, though he doesn’t miss the scrunched expression etched across your features. Your skin that peeks from beneath your adorable kitty pyjamas was covered in a sheen of sweat, and he could feel the heat radiating from your body when he closed the distance in two quick strides.

You’re sick.

The rasp of your breathing indicated something was sitting on your chest, likely a bad cold or some infection, and he doesn’t know what to do with this newfound information. Turning, he raised his glasses atop his head to pass a weary palm down his face.

Cuts, scrapes and bruises are things he can deal with. He is well accustomed to peroxide on rags to clean wounds and disinfect any dirt that might linger inside split knuckles. A raw steak slapped over a swollen eye might be considered a bit of a health hazard these days, but he still swore that nothing reduced the swelling faster. Hell, Shuji was even a dab hand with a needle and thread. He had lost count with how many of his exclusively short list of friends he had patched up to avoid the inevitable hospital questions over the years. He had even sewn himself up from time to time.

Hell, he needed to act. Standing here doing nothing was beginning to sizzle his blood.

You woke from being jostled, the haze of your fever dream preventing the usual fight or flight instinct from kicking in. Craning your neck, you blinked and scrubbed at your eyes. There was no way you were looking up at your boyfriend. No way that he had you cradled in his arms in the most delicate hold you had ever experienced.

“Shuji?”

“Yeah, princess, it’s me. Need you to sit here f’me, alright?” He rasped, voice affected by some emotion you couldn’t quite place.

Cool porcelain met your backside, your body guided upright until you could manage your equilibrium. Hanma Shuji was here, in your apartment, in your bathroom. Rummaging through your medicine cabinet and looking for god knows what.

A bath. He could at least run you a warm bath and rid you of the smell of sweat and sickness from your pretty skin. Methodically, he worked to fill the tub and added a few splashes of some scented shit that smelled familiar from your cabinet. Shuji dutifully peeled the pyjamas and underwear from your body and threw them in the hamper with a mind to run a load for you if he remembered.

Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe your twisted fever-induced dreams had shifted away from the nauseatingly vibrant images you had experienced only a few hours ago to this muted peaceful scene. It was a nice thought, but no, this was reality and not one you ever thought you’d experience.

A hand from behind your head came into view, a hand you knew immediately, not just by the stark black kanji inked against golden skin but the length of his slender fingers and the slight yellowish stain from the cigarettes he smoked. He handed you a soapy washcloth, which you gratefully accepted, wiping it across your body and sluffing off the grim that had caked you over the course of the last few days.

It was heaven, pure and simple, and when you thought it couldn’t get any better, Shuji surprised you once more. He gently tilted your head back, your eyes met his, and you smiled in adoration at the concentration evident on his face seconds before he began wetting your hair with the jug you kept on the edge of the bath.

“You don’t have to… Shu, I can take care of my hair once I’m better.”

Shuji clicked his tongue against his teeth in admonishment, but he held back from scolding you further for not trusting him with this small task. He washed his own damn hair, so washing yours wasn’t going to be some impossible task. His fingers worked in the suds of your shampoo into a thick lather, digging deep against your scalp and massaging firmly enough to elicit moans of bliss.

Normally such noises would make him hard, but right now it only raised a genuine smile. This was possibly one of the most intimate things he had ever done for you. Never mind all those times he had rearranged your insides or made slow, passionate love to you. No, this was on a whole other level, and he liked it–more than he ever believed he would.

You must have dozed off whilst he shampooed and conditioned your hair because the next thing you were aware of was being lifted from the bath and wrapped in a thick fluffy towel that draped past your toes. Shuji returned you to your bedroom but paused in where to deposit you, his nose wrinkled in distaste at the mess of sheets that most definitely needed to be washed and changed. Eventually, he planted your feet on the plush rug by the bottom of your bed, one which his knees were intimately familiar with and helped towel dry your body from head to foot.

“Put these on, baby. Imma strip your bed, do you have another set?” He asked with a kiss to your temple, handing you a clean set of yellow pyjamas with little ducks covering them from your dresser drawer.

Nodding sleepily, you pointed to the wicker storage box in the far corner before stepping into the pj pants and clumsily covering yourself with the top that bagged just enough that you could truthfully forgo the pants if you wanted.

You watched in amusement as the man known far and wide as both a talented photographer and sometimes enforcer for certain well-connected friends changed your bedding. His tall frame made it easy for him to manipulate the fitted sheet into place and wrangle a clean duvet cover on your kingsize duvet. This shitty task would have taken you nearly half an hour by yourself, but he managed in only ten.

“Need to dry my hair,” you yawned, leaning your face on his bicep and gratefully folding into his body when his arm snaked around your waist. He looked lost again, and you took pity on him. This kind of care was not his forte, but he didn’t know that all of this meant more to you than you could verbalise in your current state.

“I’ll wait for you in the living room. Take your time, alright?” With a final kiss to your forehead, he rounded the door of your bedroom and was gone from sight.

Shuji tried to sit still whilst the sound of your hairdryer filled his ears, but he was never one to sit idly by. He thought back on the times he had been sick as a kid with no one to really care for him and the things he would have wished for. In truth, a hot bath, clean clothes and a full stomach were all he ever wanted.

He was no cook, but he got by. A can of chicken soup caught his attention as he scanned your cupboards and set about warming it up on the stovetop. Your bread was still fresh, and he found butter in the fridge. He could do this. He could be the caring boyfriend when he wanted and though he had never felt inclined before, you were different.

You didn’t blow up his phone looking for sympathy or attention–no–you had tried to tough it out much like he had growing up, and it further sparked the flicker of kindred spirit that he felt about you. He wanted to protect you. There was no sense of obligation, and that made the difference. You were the first person he had loved outside of himself, and you reciprocated unconditionally.

You took the man he was, the boy he had been and loved every part of him, flaws and all. Shuji could do the same for you, and he vowed that the next time one of you fell sick, you’d be living together and there would be no need to guess that something was wrong.

So engrossed in sentimental thoughts that were still rather foreign to him, Shuji didn’t notice the hairdryer cut off nor the sound of your bare feet padding in search of him. It wasn’t until two small arms wound around his waist that he noticed or acknowledged your presence at all.

“What did I do to deserve you, Hanma Shuji?” You sobbed wetly into the shirt covering his back. Your emotions were overwhelming you, head still stuffy from whatever sickness had beat your ass the past few days, coupled with the domesticity of watching him cook for you. Tears streaked towards your cheeks, and you smushed your face deeper into him in an attempt to halt the flow.

He chuckled whilst continuing to stir the soup. “I know a lot of people that would say you must have been real bad in a past life to have ended up with me as a boyfriend.”

You sniffled and mustered every ounce of strength–barely anything–to smack him for that comment. “Shut up, you ass. Don’t spoil it.”

Shuji turned slowly. The amused expression softening in the face of your soppy, pathetic face that he couldn’t possibly adore any more, and he raised a hand to thumb away your tears. Enfolding you fully into his arms, he cooed softly against your freshly dried hair and smiled at the scent that was uniquely you had returned to your skin.

“I want you to know that I would do anything for you. Not only would I rip apart this entire fucking world if someone dared hurt you.” He enthused before his tone softened with a quiet exhale as if he were about to whisper some unspoken secret. “But I’ll also bathe you when you need the help, and I’ll feed you when you’re hungry. For you, there is nothing too much.”

#delirious writes #hanma x reader #shuji x reader #hanma shuji x reader #hanma fluff #shuji fluff #soft shuji

239 notes · View notes

latanyalove · 4 months

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I'm Right Here With You

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Pairing: Chopper x Motherly Y/N (Slight Zoro x Y/N)

Content: Discrimination against Straw Hats, misunderstandings, light angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending in part 2

A/n: Part 2 Here! I'm so happy and grateful for passing 200 followers! For that, we are celebrating this little one's birthday, who is also mine and Zoro's child. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing this! <3

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Happy Birthday to my Little Raccoon Dog!

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Even though you were new to the Straw Hat Pirates, there was one member that you had quickly grown close to.

The adorable doctor of the ship: Tony Tony Chopper.

Due to the fact that you are naturally capable of manipulating water without eating a devil fruit, you have suffered a lot of injuries trying to control the sea as a result.

Which meant a lot of visits to the doctor's office, which was great for the both of you. You healed quicker and Chopper had the chance to test out some medicine on you as well as get special plants from the ocean.

Nami would say that you two were two peas in a pod, which would confused Chopper and ask you to explain what it means to him.

You often attended to Chopper's needs, acting like a mother or older sister figure towards him. You would make sure he was eating properly and scold him if he was being reckless.

Chopper would often confide in you, as he knew that you would be able to provide him with the understanding and care he needed.

The crew had just arrived at a new island: even though the crew had been to many weird islands, this one was in the top ranks.

Apparently the whole island thought that they were in the year 1890, their dressing completely different compared to the crews clothes, all of us receiving stares especially towards Nami, Franky and Brook.

"Why is she wearing hardly any clothes?" "Is she not ashamed?" "She must be a slut,"

Listening for only a second, you quickly drapped your coat over her shoulders, staring back at the civilians. Nami looked self-conscious, which was never the case. Ever.

Luffy didn't even know half of the words that were said but seeing Nami's reaction made him boil in anger. Fortunately Franky caught on and closed Luffy's mouth before he would start yelling at the citizens.

"Let me go!" Luffy tried to say but Franky whispered something which kept him quiet for the meanwhile.

After a while, the mayor finally revealed himself to them, demanding why pirates were coming to 'terrorize' this island.

The calmest of the crew, Nico Robin, stepped forward and tried to explain herself but the mayor wasn't calm enough to be reasonable.

"Liar! Pirates are never to be trusted!" The mayor stated, looking for the residents to make the scene bigger.

"Mr. Mayor," Robin started, her voice unrecognisable as the rest of her words were whispered but it seemed to have made an impression on the leader.

"Oh- Okay, you have until tomorrow night to get out of here," The mayor said, trying to mask his fear with a fake confidence.

Robin turned around with a smile, pleased with her work.

"Let's go back to the ship to figure out a plan," She said and we quickly agreed, a path was given back to the ship in an instant. . . .

Chopper had been walking with his crew members through the town aware of the stares that he was receiving but it didn't affect him as much.

He had grown accustomed to the curious gazes and judgmental whispers that followed him wherever he went. He knew that being different was part of his identity as a reindeer with human-like abilities, and he had learned to embrace it.

"Mother! Please help me!"

Chopper's ears perked up amidst the noise of the town, and he quickly turned his head towards the desperate cry for help. Despite the stares and whispers, his compassionate nature couldn't ignore the plea of a child in need.

With a determined stride, Chopper followed the voice, ready to lend a helping hand.

I'll be back soon guys.

Navigating through the crowd, Chopper's hooves barely made a sound as he closed in on the source of distress. The echoes of the child's sobs grew louder, tugging at his heartstrings and fueling his determination to bring solace and assistance.

"Shut up little child!" "Stop crying!"

Chopper witnessed something terrifying: two drunk men beating up a child. His instincts kicked in, eating a Rumble ball to be in the Horn Point form as he rushed forward, using his strong antlers to fend off the attackers and protect the defenseless child.

With the attackers quickly defeated, Chopper's attention shifted entirely to the frightened child.

He turned into his Brain Point form before kneeling down beside them, he offered a gentle smile and reassurance.

"What's your name?" Chopper asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

The child sniffed and looked up at him, their eyes wide with fear. "M-Mark," they stammered, their voice trembling.

Chopper nodded, his heart swelling with a mix of compassion and determination. "Don't worry, Mark. You're safe now. Are you hurt anywhere?"

Mark shook his head, realizing that Chopper was not a threat. Grateful tears welled up in Mark's eyes as he whispered, "Thank you. I'm just scared, but I'm not hurt."

"Mark! Baby! Where did you go!?"

Chopper's ears perked up at the sound of the female voice, and he turned his head to see a woman frantically searching for Mark.

With a reassuring smile, he gestured towards the child and said, "Don't worry, I found him. He's safe with me."

"Thank you so much! I was so worried," the woman said, tears of relief streaming down her face as she embraced her child tightly.

"Come on, Mark, we have to go meet up with your father," she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him away.

As Chopper watched them walk out of the alleyway, he noticed that there were more women with their sons walking in the same direction at the same time.

It was a peculiar sight, but Chopper understood that he couldn't judge their traditions or the reasons behind their actions.

Maybe it was Mother's day? Or a mother and son bonding day for the island?

Suddenly Mark looked back, his eyes filled with terror instead of gratitude.

It was clear that the woman claiming to be his mother was not who she seemed.

Though before he could do anything about it, he felt something make contact with his head, knocking him out. Darkness consumed Chopper as he lost consciousness, unaware of the danger that awaited him. . . .

It has been 2 hours since Chopper had gone missing and you really started to worry. You couldn't help but imagine all the possible dangers he could be facing out there alone in the dark, and the thought made your heart sink.

Even though Luffy said he would be alright, you couldn't help yourself from envisioning Chopper in dangerous situations. Thoughts of him being chased by predators or getting lost in unfamiliar territory consumed your mind, causing your anxiety to intensify.

"He's going to be alright," a voice said behind you, making you jump.

You turned around to see Zoro standing there, a reassuring smile on his face. "Chopper is resourceful and has survived countless dangers before."

"I know but I can't help but worry," you said, your voice trembling with concern. "I know Chopper is resourceful, but what if this time is different? What if he's in real danger?"

Zoro's smile faded slightly, but he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "He's tough remember, he's part of this crew for a reason,"

You nodded, staring out towards the island from where they were docked, and tried to find solace in Zoro's words. Deep down, you knew he was right. Chopper had always managed to find his way back to the crew, no matter how dire the circumstances.

Your heart still ached with worry, but you held onto the hope that Chopper's resilience would once again lead him safely back to the Sunny.

Without saying anything, you saw Zoro hand you a bottle of sake and you accepted it, taking a large gulp of it. As the warm liquid burned its way down your throat, you felt a sense of temporary relief wash over you.

"I've been meaning to ask, why do you act so motherly towards Chopper?" Zoro asked curiously, breaking the silence.

You paused for a moment, contemplating his question. "I guess it's because I see a bit of myself in him," you replied. "I know what it's like to feel scared and alone, and I just want to protect him like I wish someone had protected me."

Zoro nodded understandingly, his gaze softening. "Well, he's lucky to have you looking out for him," he said sincerely.

"Since we're asking questions, why do you act so fatherly towards Chopper?" you said, turning to face him.

There was hardly any space between the both of us since you were sitting close to him but you didn't care. Zoro, however, seemed taken aback by your question, his cheeks turning red and his eyes widening in surprise.

After a moment of hesitation, he finally replied, "I guess it's because I see him as a younger brother?"

"Is that all?"

"No," he muttered, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. "It's not just that. I care about him, just like I care about you."

His words hung in the air, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the unexpected confession.

"Well, I guess that makes you the overprotective dad and me the overly concerned mom of Tony Tony Chopper," you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

Zoro's cheeks turned even redder, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, he's lucky to have us as his parents," Zoro replied, his grin growing wider.

As the tension between you and Zoro reached its peak, the air crackled with anticipation. Time seemed to stand still as his lips brushed against yours, sending an electric shock through your entire body.

The kiss was soft yet passionate, igniting a fire within you that you never knew existed. Every touch, every caress, spoke volumes of the unspoken desires that had been brewing between you. In that moment, it was as if the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in a sea of euphoria and longing.

"Zoro, are you there?" The voice of Luffy was loud, enough for the both of us to back away from each other in embarrassment. The moment shattered, leaving us with flushed faces and a lingering tension that neither of us knew how to address.

"I'll go with him," Zoro said, quick to get up and leave, his sudden departure leaving you with a mix of confusion and disappointment.

You couldn't help but wonder if the intensity of the moment had scared him off or if there were other factors at play.

You couldn't help but wonder if Zoro's sudden departure meant that he didn't have romantic feelings for you. The lingering uncertainty left you questioning whether the kiss had fallen short of his expectations or if there were other reasons behind his retreat.

Was the kiss not good enough for him? It was your first kiss after all.

"Hey guys! Did you know what happened at the base?" A voice below at the dock said, capturing your interest. Curiosity piqued, you leaned over the railings of the ship to catch a glimpse of the commotion down below.

"No, I've been stuck guarding the area."

"Well I heard that the pet of the Straw Hats, Tony Tony Chopper was captured using our simplest trick," The male laughed, "And here I thought that they were strong!"

Your heart sank as you quickly sobered up at the mention of Chopper's capture. The playful moment with Zoro was instantly forgotten as a wave of worry and determination washed over you. You knew you had to find Chopper and bring him back safely, no matter the cost.

Sorry everyone, I couldn't wait any longer.

Without a second thought, you jumped off the ship and quietly followed the sound of their conversation, determined to rescue Chopper and ensure his safety.

You weren't the best at stealth, but you managed to stay hidden and follow them to their base, careful not to alert anyone of your presence.

As you approached the entrance, you couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline and determination, knowing that Chopper's safety depended on your next moves.

"The password?" A voice said behind the door.

"Evolution prevails," The man said confidently and in a matter of seconds, the door opened.

Right. You knew the password, now you just needed to infiltrate the base, without knowing how strong or how many they are.

Maybe you should have waited for Luffy's command.

No, Chopper needs you right now. He could be in the brink of death and you're the only one in the whole crew who knows more than just CPR.

You walked to the door and knocked twice like the previous did, saying "Evolution prevails,"

The door swung open, revealing a dimly lit corridor. As you stepped inside, the sound of faint footsteps echoed in the distance, urging you to tread carefully.

Since you were fairly new to the crew, you didn't have a wanted poster yet so it was easy to talk to people without being noticed.

"Hey old man, do you know where Tony Tony Chopper is being held?" you asked the elderly man who seemed to be drinking alone. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and caution.

After a moment of hesitation, he leaned in closer and whispered, "You're looking for the pet of the Straw Hats? What do you want with them? Are you supposed to be guarding them?"

"Yeah, I'm new here," You muttered, holding back from sending the man flying.

"Really? Well you're in luck, you get to take care of the weakest prisoner. He's already been beaten up in the basement so you can just watch or join in with the beatings!" The old man laughed.

"Who knew that the future King of the Pirates would recruit such a useless-"

He was on the verge of finishing his sentence when his own drink flew out of his cup, forming a helmet around the top of his head and drowning himself in the alcohol.

Instantly, panic erupted in the bar as the old man desperately tried to break free from the makeshift helmet of his own drink, while the other workers looked on in shock and disbelief.

The chaotic scene caused a momentary distraction, allowing you to slip away unnoticed and continue your search for Tony Tony Chopper.

You ran through the corridors, your heart pounding with each step as the image of Chopper's injured form lingered in your mind.

The urgency pushed you forward, determined to find him before it was too late. Every passing second only fueled your anxiety, driving you to search even harder for any sign of your little reindeer.

It was then that you found a staircase going downstairs, leading you deeper into the labyrinthine prison. With each step, the air grew colder and the atmosphere more oppressive, heightening your sense of foreboding.

"Please help!" "This is hell!" "I'll pay you to let me out!"

The desperate pleas and cries for help echoed through the prison, creating an eerie chorus that sent chills down your spine. The darkness of the corridors seemed to consume the flickering lights, adding to the feeling that you had indeed descended into the depths of hell itself.

Chopper, just wait a little.

As you made it to the end of the staircase, adrenaline coursing through your veins, you wasted no time in searching every jail cell with unwavering determination. With each guard that stood in your way, you swiftly overcame them, using your water ability to ensure nothing would stop you from finding and rescuing Chopper.

The prisoners ranged from young to old, humans to animals, but all of them were beaten up and injured. Their bodies bore the marks of brutality and their faces were etched with pain and despair.

It was a grim sight that served as a constant reminder of the cruelty and suffering within the prison walls.

"Y/N?" A voice whispered from a cell you quickly past by.

You recognized that voice straight away, turning back to look inside the cell. It was Tony Tony Chopper, his small frame huddled in a corner, his eyes filled with fear and hope as he saw you.

"Chopper!" you exclaimed, rushing to the cell and reaching through the bars to hold his trembling hand. "I found you. We're getting out of here."

You were shocked when you saw how beaten up Chopper was. His fur was matted with blood, and his limbs trembled with pain as he weakly clung to your hand.

It was clear that he had endured unimaginable suffering, and your heart ached with a mix of anger and determination to rescue him from this hellish prison.

"Y/N?" Chopper asked in a shaky voice.

"Yes Chopper?" You answered, looking through all of the unconscious guards clothes to find a key from the cell.

"Am I really the weakest?" Chopper asked, his voice filled with self-doubt.

You looked into his eyes, filled with determination, and replied, "No, Chopper. You are strong in your own way."

After finding a key, you quickly let him out, unlocking the cell door and embracing Chopper tightly.

Feeling the warmth of his trembling body against yours, you held Chopper tightly, letting him know that he was safe now and that you would protect him with all your strength.

"I thought you guys were going to leave me here," he cried, clinging onto you, his small body shaking with relief.

"Never," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him even tighter. "I will always be there for you, Chopper. As your mother, I would never leave you."

As Chopper clung onto you, his trembling body slowly started to relax. He looked up at you with tear-filled eyes and let out a small, shaky laugh.

"Now come on, let's get back before Dad gets mad," You said, remembering the event of before.

"Dad?"

"You know, the swordsman that always carries you around," You reminded him.

Seeing his face light up made you smile. "Zoro is my dad?!"

You nodded, enjoying to see the grin on his face.

"Hey! A prisoner is escaping!" A guard yelled from a distance.

You quickly snapped back into reality, realizing the danger that lurked outside the cell.

As the guard's shout echoed through the corridor, the sound of heavy boots hitting the ground grew louder, reverberating against the cold stone walls. Each thud seemed to send shockwaves of fear through your body, reminding you of the urgent need to escape and the perilous journey that lay ahead.

"Just don't let go and let me do the rest," you instructed Chopper, tucking him closer to your chest, as you both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Your ability was very useful since the basement was basically flooded.

As you ran through the flooded basement, you summoned your power, manipulating the water to rise and swirl around you. With a flick of your wrist, you sent powerful torrents crashing into the guards, knocking them off their feet and rendering them unconscious.

Water obeyed your every command, becoming a formidable weapon that cleared your path and thwarted anyone who dared to oppose you. . . .

By the time you two had made it out of the base, you were battered and bruised just like Chopper, your bodies bearing the physical scars of the fierce battle you had fought.

You breathed hard, trying to catch the breath that was knocked out of you moments ago by the doorman. The adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you glanced at Chopper and saw a worried look in his eyes.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" He asked worriedly, looking back to see if anyone was following us.

You reassured him with a faint smile, your voice filled with determination, "I'm fine, Chopper. We made it out together, and I won't let anyone harm us."

As you staggered, each step feeling heavier than the last, you kept your eyes set on the sea shore, where your crew members would be waiting for you in worry.

What would they think of you? Will they be disappointed when they see you because you disobeyed your captain's orders? Will they kick you out of the crew? Will Zoro, Luffy's first mate, hate you?

As you struggled to stay on your feet, the waves crashing against the shore seemed to grow louder. Chopper's worried face blurred in and out of focus, and before you could answer his question, darkness enveloped you, and you succumbed to unconsciousness.

"Y/N! Y/N please get up! If we get to the ship, I can use my medicine to heal you so stay awake until then!" Chopper said, panicked.

"Please, mom," you heard the distress in his voice as Chopper pleaded for you to stay conscious.

The sound of his worry cut through the darkness that surrounded you, urging you to fight against the pull of unconsciousness and make it to the ship where he could treat your injuries. . . .

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271 notes · View notes

frankenkyle19 · 9 months

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-FrankenKyle19’s Masterlist-

Who I write for:

AHS:

Tate Langdon

Kit Walker

Kyle Spencer

Jimmy Darling

James March

X-MEN:

Peter Maximoff

THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES

Coriolanus Snow

Sejanus Plinth

BILLY THE KID

William H. Bonney Billy

Tate Langdon-

Tate Langdon NSFW Headcanons (smut)

Be My Good Boy (smut)

The Devil’s Chocolate 🍫 (smut)

Hold Me (smut)

I Bet I Could Scare You (Smut)

Kit Walker-

Opening Up (hurt/comfort)

Desperation (smut)

Healing ❤️‍🩹 (hurt/comfort)

This Cruel Existence (angst)

You Can If You Want (smut)

Grown up time (smut)

Kyle Spencer-

“Not….Stupid” (hurt/comfort)

Kyle Spencer Headcanons (fluff)

Kyle Spencer NSFW Headcanons (smut)

🌼Blow Dryer🌸 (comfort)

Stories Untold (hurt/comfort)

🌼Touched By A Zombie🌼 (fluff)

Cherry Medicine 🍒 (fluff)

Questions Answered (fluff, hurt/comfort)

Let Go, I’ll Catch You (smut)

Unsupervised Tablet Time (smut)

After The Glitter Fades (Fluff)

Rubber Ducky 🧼 (comfort)

Free (Fluff)

Franken!Kyle experimenting with toys (smut)

Jimmy Darling-

You Sunshine, You Temptress (smut)

Jealousy (smut)

After Work Release (Smut)

James March-

Ghost Sex (smut)

JPM’s NSFW alphabet (smut)

A Lesson In Vulnerability (hurt/comfort)

Self Pleasure (smut)

Rhythm of Your Undead Heart (smut)

Peter Maximoff-

I Hate You, I Love You (smut)

Go Slow, Speedster (smut)

🎃The sweetest Treat is You🎃(smut)

Drabble (smut)

Learning Your Lesson (smut)

The No Longer Virgin (smut)

Pegging Peter Maximoff (smut)

Food Play with Peter Maximoff (smut)

The Twinkie Thief (smut)

Kai Anderson-

Comforting Car Ride (hurt/comfort)

Why Won’t You? (Sorta fluff)

Sweet Pain (smut)

Mask Sex (Smut)

Colin Zabel-

Best Years Of Your Life 💋 (fluff)

Sit Down (Smut)

Stan Bowes-

First Time For Everything (mxm smut)

Mr. Gallant-

Red Silk and Leather (mxm smut)

Austin Sommers

My Treat-(smut)

Coriolanus Snow

When Snow Doesn’t Land On Top (smut)

Virgin!Academy Coryo (smut)

Necklaces and Potato Chips (smut)

Caught Pt. 1 (smut)

Soft Sex with Coryo Drabble (smut)

398 notes · View notes

justagirlwholikesadam · 4 months

Text

Farmer! Sandor Clegane Headcanon

don't own these pics

Summary: Just a few headcanon of Sandor Clegane as a farmer.

A/N: Thinking about this man as a farmer has me down on my knees. Comment and like below, maybe I can do next farmer Sandor meeting reader. Enjoy-L || Border Credit: @cafekitsune

Warning: SFW, sad childhood, Sandor being himself, dog dad,

Farmer!Sandor always knew he wanted to be a farmer from a young age. He liked working with his hands and moving around. He never wanted a desk job, he couldn't imagine his 6 '6 self sitting on a small computer chair for nine hours a day, five days a week. He had low patience dealing with idiot people, so retail was out of the question, any job that required dealing with people was a no. So far the only thing talking back to him were the animals on the farm and he was content with that.

Farmer!Sandor isn't much of a people person but he will sometimes invite Tormund, a worker from the market he goes to for groceries once in a while over to watch the game or just for a beer. Sandor only does it because Tormund doesn't shut up about coming over. After two six-packs, Tormund isn't so bad to be around and he doesn’t ask him about his scars.

Farmer!Sandor gets up right before the rooster crow at dawn. He likes to watch the sunrise while drinking black coffee. He nibbles on some toast or some corn muffins. On Sunday, he makes a big breakfast meal since it's the only day he rest. Eggs, bacon sometimes with ham and grits.

Farmer!Sandor wears a white beater shirt and his dark coarse chest hair peeks out. It shows off his broad shoulders and his muscular arms, it was all thanks to the hard manual labor he does. He ties his long hair with a black hair band, he keeps a spare around his wrist. He wears old blue jeans that hang low on his hips. Sometimes he wears a flannel shirt, when it gets too hot, he takes it off and wraps it around his hips. He wears these heavy size 12 boots with rubber outsoles on them.

Farmer!Sandor sweats alot after a long day of work. He uses the flannel to wipe the sweat off his forehead, neck and tone arms. He showers immediately after walking into the house. He leaves the boots outside and goes into the shower to clean the dirt and sweat off of his body. He makes sure he cleans himself, rubbing the body wash thoroughly through his chest hair and his long hair.

Farmer!Sandor walks out of the shower and looks at himself in the mirror. His burn scars are a bit red from being out in the sun all day. He reminds himself for tomorrow to wear his hat. He grabs face cream from the medicine cabinet to help with the redness. Some days Sandor can't stand the sight of him, that's why he liked being alone in his farmhouse. He dislikes the stares and pointing he got when going into town.

Farmer!Sandor still has issues about his face, it has gotten much better after going to the doctors. He has even done surgery for his hair to grow a bit, he usually combs his hair over to cover the slightly bald spot. He applies oils on his beard regularly and it helped his beard grow a bit back. His right brow has grown a bit as well, but the burn scars on his cheek and ear are still very visible.

Farmer!Sandor dresses comfy to get started on dinner. He walks into the kitchen and turns on the radio or sometimes the tv. He's listening to the news while cutting some veggies he has grown from his garden in the backyard. He usually grills his steak in the backyard when he's not tired. Opening a beer, he sits down and eats in silence. Sometimes he eats in front of the tv and watches whatever is playing. He's not picky on what to watch on tv.

Farmer!Sandor was on the field the next day on the tractor when he heard barking. He turns it off and looks over his shoulders to see it was a dog a few feet away from him. There isn't usually strays around, he makes sure of it since he has some chickens and pigs. He walks towards the dog, its shaggy fur is white and gray. Its ears are floppy and its tongue is hanging out as it pants.

“You alright, pup?” He asked, not really expecting it to answer but to his surprise. It barks at him, making him smile.

He carefully stretches his hand out when he notices it wasn't going to bite. He pats its head and even scratches behind its ears. Asking if it wants to eat, the dog’s tail starts wagging like crazy. Sandor decides he’ll have lunch early that day. He smiles once more when he notices it’s following him all the way to the house. He sits outside on the porch swing as he eats his sandwich and drinks a cold glass of ice tea. He watches the dog eat the leftover steak from dinner last night.

Farmer!Sandor decides to keep the dog after it kept following him everywhere for the past week. When he finds out it’s a girl, he decides to name it after his little sister, Ellie. The dog didn’t seem to mind, it followed him whenever he said it. He liked having company, it was less lonely when he wasn’t working. He lets Ellie sleep on the foot of his bed.

Farmer!Sandor doesn't smoke that much, he really only does it when he has a rough day. He’s sitting on the porch swing with a beer in one hand and the cigarette in the other. Since he’s alone, he does alot of thinking as he watches the sunset. He thinks about his life before he started to farm. He has been thinking about his little sister lately since the dog came around. His little sister was his best friend when he was younger. He had told her about his dream of having a farm. He smiles to himself as he remembers her telling him that he had to have horses for her to ride. He promised her that he would when he was a kid he had even promised her that he would have two horses so they could ride together.

Farmer!Sandor didn't have a good childhood, his parents were never around and his older brother was a bully. His older brother was the one to burn him when he was a kid. While holding his face on the hot coals, his little sister tried to help him. She hit the older brother on the back with her tiny fist. Furious that she was hitting him, he had smacked her. He hit her so hard that she fell back and slammed her head on the coffee table. Ellie lost a lot of blood on the way to the hospital and did not survive. His older brother was 18 at the time and was sentenced to prison. Parents couldn't handle it and left Sandor, who was placed in foster care.

Farmer!Sandor gets brought back to reality when he feels Ellie rubbing her head against his knee. He threw the cigarette out and placed the beer on the small table near him. He pats the seat next to him and makes sure that the swing doesn't move as Ellie jumps up next to him. He leans back as she rests her head on his lap. Sandor pats her head softly as he looks over across the field and stares at the half built stable he was building, he was going to get those horses and complete his promise to his sister.

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #rory mccann #sandor clegane fanfic #games of thrones #sandor the hound clegane #ua sandor clegane #modern au sandor clegane #rorymccann

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totally--perfect · 1 month

Text

WILD HEADCANONS FOR LAWRENCE OLEANDER.

📢 MENTION OF DRUGS, SELFHARM, MDNI📢

1. He can neither draw, nor play musical instruments, nor sing, nor dance. All this, of course, is not only due to the fear of going to, say, a music/dance/art school, but simply because of the fear of self-expression. Lawrence is terribly afraid of this world, and even if he does not want to admit and show it 100%, subconsciously it is so. One day, he wanted to learn how to play a guitar (from a video on YouTube), which he bought on the Internet. He failed to play a chord several times, because of which he experienced Spanish shame (cringing himself), broke his guitar and did not bother to express himself anywhere else. - \(-^-) /-

2. Let's do this. Lawrence, hmm, is not so rich that he can take good, “real” drugs, like heroin, mephedrone, opium and other crap. He buys weed. Moreover, he GROWS it and calmly gets high. Of course, he can play around with the doses of some pharmaceutical drugs and peacefully retreat to the river once or twice, but, again, this rarely happens due to a). He is not rich. b). Difficulty in purchasing such magical medicines. Plus, he himself can mix some self-grown plants and get a nice trip. At least here he's not stupid.

3). HIM IS IRRITATED BY SONGS WITH WORDS. Even if it's quiet, calm lyrics. The maximum that he can listen to is something similar to NBSPLV. He mostly listens to ambient or lo-fi music.

4). He is good with the Internet Perhaps he even has an account on some Instagram or Twitter, but he doesn’t post anything there. The same person who has 3 subscribers and 150 subscriptions. (accounts of a dubious nature, a la the ravings of a madman or gardening).

5). It’s terribly easy to instill him in if you’re not too rude/active and too vanilla and “��👉🏻👈🏻” Be calm, patient and don’t put pressure on him, throwing in random words of approval and he’s yours. Just. Be. Calm. In the same way, you can quickly calm him down. Lawrence lacks authority He is the same person who will speak on stage into a loudspeaker, but no one will listen to him anyway. Throw him a couple of unobtrusive words that he is not an empty place for you and he will blur into a puddle at your feet.

6). He would scream if you unexpectedly hugged him (from the back, for example), even if you have been together for ± a month. But the constant “can I hug you” would piss him off. (He will eat your every touch, in fact, as long as you give hints about what you are going to do). He himself rarely manifests himself in tactility, burning with shame and panic.

7). He does self-harm, and he DEFINITELY has scars all over his thighs . (doesn’t cut his hands because he’s afraid that they’ll notice it and beat the crap out of him and even laugh from above).

#btd2 #btd2 lawrence #lawrence oleander #boyfriend to death #lawrence btd #btd

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awxcoffeexno · 7 months

Text

medicine

husband!joel x reader

fic masterlist

summary: your mind and his heart are breaking in sync and medicine doesn't seem to be fixing either.

content: angst, angst, angst, what's new tbh, I'm v sorry I didn't mean to torture you, reader's got mental health problems, joel is a contractor, no outbreak (no use of y/n, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel is in his 40s))

warnings: terrible mental health, mentions of self harm, mentions of prescribed drug and sedative use, please don't read this if any of this is going to trigger you, this fic might be short but it's super heavy!!

word count: 1.1k

a/n: the way I sobbed writing this lmaoo im sorry T.T, i'm super sick and wrote this in one morning so forgive any errors pls

the door creaks open with a soft lament, announcing joel's arrival.

he's home, but he's not; a tangible ghost hovering between two worlds—one defined by deadlines, contracts, and relentless stress, the other confined to the four walls of a home that has grown colder with each passing day. his footsteps trace a familiar path down the hallway, each one laden with hesitancy and regret, as if the floorboards themselves are a minefield.

when he finally enters your bedroom, you're on the floor, surrounded by photos torn from their frames. your eyes are vacant, aimlessly scanning the images while your mouth mutters words without meaning. the coherent world has slipped through your fingers like grains of sand, and you're drifting on an endless tide, lost in your own head once again.

his eyes scan the scene, widening with a mixture of despair and recognition. "what is happenin’ here, angel?” his voice cracks, a frayed rope on the verge of snapping. you can't answer him, your own words a garbled mess that even you don't understand.

the pill bottle sits untouched on the nightstand, a mute accusation. he glances from you to the bottle and back, his face the canvas of a losing battle between frustration and fear. “y’need to take your medicine,” he exhales, grasping for some sense of normality.

"i don't... why? no. no!" your resistance manifests in broken sentences, but the message is clear in your wild eyes and trembling hands—you hate those pills, hate the haze they cast over your mind and the way they strip you of whatever agency you have left.

"please," he implores, his voice tinged with desperation. he takes a step toward you, but you recoil, pushing yourself further into the corner of the room. the boundaries of his world are closing in, contracting with each day that passes. “y’have to take it,” he repeats even as it kills him, “you ain’t safe like this, sweetheart.”

not safe because he’s seen the frantic mess you turn into. the way you try to find all the knives he’s hidden away in the depths of the attic. the way you pull your hair out in handfuls - the hair he so dotingly does up in braids or in little bows every morning.

a choked sob escapes your lips, a wounded sound that cuts through the tension like a knife. "don't...no, can't...please..."

his eyes dart to the windows, then to the walls that separate your home from your neighbors. "shhh, angel, we can't disturb the people next door, come on now," he says, but his attempt to mask his panic with practicality is failing. the strain is showing in the tight line of his jaw and the pinched corners of his eyes.

he reaches for the pill bottle with shaking hands, the weight of each second like a stone sinking in water. he pours a pill into his palm and moves toward you. you lash out, disoriented, your hand making contact with the bottle, sending it flying across the room. pills scatter on the carpet like lost stars.

for a moment, joel just stands there, staring at the mess as if it's a physical manifestation of your lives—chaotic, broken, irretrievable. then, grabbing the box with syringes from your shelf, he rushes toward you, grabs your flailing arms, and restrains you with an iron grip that's part desperation, part surrender. he holds you tight, as if by sheer force he can meld the fractured pieces of your existence back together.

it hurts you and he knows his grip isn’t gentle. it's ugly. it's painful. but it's the only way he knows to keep you from falling off the edge, the only way he can tether you to a reality that's slipping further and further away. his arms tremble around you, and his breath comes out in ragged gasps that mirror your own disordered breathing.

"i love you. god, i love you so much," he chokes out in apology, the words barely audible over the sound of both your shallow breaths. you can't reply, your own voice lost in the labyrinth of your fragmented mind, but you cling to him as if he's the last solid thing in a world made of quicksand.

finally, your resistance wanes, drained by the struggle, by the sedative he manages to get into your arm after what felt like an eternity of fighting. your body goes limp in his arms, and he gently, carefully, lays you down on the bed. his hands hover over you for a moment, as if he's afraid to let go, afraid that if he does, you'll slip through his fingers for good.

only when he's sure you're asleep does he allow himself to break. he sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, and cries. silent, gut-wrenching sobs that he's held back for too long. he weeps for you, for him, for the love that's become a war zone, a place of unending battles with no victories in sight.

his shoulders shake as he cries, looking at the scratches your nails have left on his arms through his tears. he thinks of the hours he's spent away from you, lost in a job that demands more than he has left to give. each contract signed, each project completed, feels like another step away from you.

he thinks of tomorrow, and the day after, each stretching out in front of him like an endless road leading nowhere good. what if it happens again? what if he comes home to find you worse? if? when. when it happens he has no idea what he’ll do.

the hardest thought, the one that hurts the most, is the future he can no longer picture, the one where you fade away completely, lost in a mind that's become a maze with no way out. he can almost see himself, years from now, sitting beside a bed where you lay but are not really there, your eyes vacant, your hands still. the thought is too much and it breaks his heart.

he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, stands up, and looks at you one more time. you're peaceful now, your face relaxed. for a brief moment, he allows himself the illusion that everything is okay, that you're simply asleep, and that you'll wake up tomorrow as the person he fell in love with.

but deep down, he knows the truth. love, as strong and as deep as it is, can't fix this. he can’t fix this. and as he leaves the room, switching off the light and plunging the world into darkness, that thought is the heaviest burden of all.

tysm for reading. also a big thank you for all the love on my other fics, makes writing all the more fun

love, d 🖤

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lovesickry · 8 months

Text

- come out and play.

┈⋆⭒ daniel ricciardo x fem!reader [3.1k] ┈⋆⭒ part 1 !

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ find all parts here ! .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ contents: none. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ backround: Dylan tait. Born in Melbourne, Australia, moves to London to study at London University in her final year, upon moving she acquaints herself with none other than Lando Norris, meeting in a nightclub in downtown London and becoming fast friends. This story will tell the events that soon unfolded as Dylan lay her eyes on the driver from Perth for that first time sitting on Lando's couch that one day, looking at everything but her and the feelings and discourse that follow as Daniel finally looks back at her. based at the time in which Daniel was in McLaren. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ a/n: you don’t meet daniel this chapter. apologies. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ disclaimer: I try to make my writing as realistic as possible, but sometimes as a writer I get bored with the plot myself, so ignore it if there's a few potholes. im not Jane Austen this is filth and sadness and angst and love, so much love and thank you.

your first days at University College of London were oddly isolating, even more so than you had originally imagined, moving across the world. the atmosphere was chilling in the January air and you were posed with the thought that you didn't entirely know what you were doing here. you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, both hands in your pockets as you reach around your self. you knew you had moved across the world slightly to get away from your parents, though you had no real excuse as to why you had despised them such. it was simply that you thought they had grown sick of you, and you of them. the space would be good for everyone. a mutually beneficial endeavour you thought. the obscure course you were studying, (philosophy, politics and economics), was what your father had called. "a course for rich people" and a "dead end". his words had only seeped so far as you were convinced this is what you were good at, this wide range of worldly thinking, you'd tried medicine, you'd tried law. you were good at both, but they were not good to you. so you had ended up with this. entirely interesting, entirely consuming, but entirely open-ended. what would you do once this was over, it was entirely unclear. would you be an author, a journalist, a politician. would you be anything? the train of thought was endless and yet came to a halt before any real conclusion could be made by you. you'd always been the person who enjoyed school, enjoyed the learning and you wanted to stay at uni to excel in everything. but you weren't too sure if that was simply because you possessed a fear for the "real world".

"Dylan-Dyl"

your eyes snap up to the person saying your name. your only friend at this place, you'd thanked god that she was finally here. shed moved before you and you'd met her over here. she was living off campus, like you and you much too quickly agreed to getting a place to split the rent. grace black, increasingly your other half and your current favourite person ever to exist.

"my dear grace" you exhale quite dramatically (sarcastically), putting a hand on your heart, acting as though it were aching without her.

you put an arm over her shoulder and make big strides to catch the tube back to your apartment. it was friday and you hadn't had a welcome party for yourself yet. you'd needed alcohol, regrettably, ever since you'd heard any single man in your class say anything regarding gender within politics, which truly made your brain hurt and your nose screw up in plain judgement and disgust. yes alcohol and music and warm bodies and dancing would do you good. you were also a fan of an English accent and if any men were getting as drunk as you planned to tonight you were looking forward to hearing your name coming from an accented mouth.

your apartment was small but your landlord was a sweet little old lady who made tea and biscuits and thought it was adorable you and grace being friends for so long and both coming to London and it was in a good spot. getting changed was always an ordeal, drinking cheap Prosecco and throwing clothes around at each other, trying on outfit after outfit. the balance between class and college student was integral to the 'clubbing' experience. once you finally settled on an outfit it was 11pm and you were feeling slightly fuzzy.

faulted by the cheap and hastily drunk Prosecco. you'd just hoped that Saturday would be enough to overcome the hangover as you needed to go in for work on Sunday. grace was secretly rich and by secretly you meant quite loudly. it was no secret her parents, unlike yours paid for everything shed ever done and hence when sending her to London gave her an absurd monthly allowance, which you shamefully benefited from. so when she pulled you into a much nicer looking club, you'd tried to drag her to the much less nicer one down the street. but she had insisted you'd go here, telling you that it just looked swanky and the drinks weren't even "that expensive". you'd see about that, as you ordered a vodka lime soda and it was 12 POUNDS. christ, you'd have to rely on flirting and batting eyelashes because if you vowed to get as drunk as you'd wished, you shit your whole three years of full time work down the fucking toilet that way.

you found grace, drink in hand and standing next to the place looking up at the DJ booth, holding your drink up and dancing to whatever kind of remix the DJ seemed to be playing, his face was distorted the red lights and the angle in which you were looking at him but he seemed oddly familiar. you were just happy the music was loud enough to feel and that finally the air was warm and moving and not cold and still. a complete juxtaposition to the chilling, academic, gloomy university experience of the past week, coming from Australian summer would always serve as a shock. you'd successfully downed 4 more drinks coming from 4 different very suspiciously nice people and grace had find a girl that she was ogling and pretending not to, stating she wouldn't leave you on your "genius party night occasion". you'd ushered her away, in a drunken haze stating that you would take over the DJ booth and that you would play a song so she could kiss the girl shed been staring at the whole night. you moved towards the booth, shouting if you could "take over" and "its an emergency" the man next to the man with a cap, looks over at you and laughs and nods towards the secuirity man with the rope. leading you up the stairs and coming face to face with the respective compulsive DJ's. an unnecessarily ugly word. you exchange hi's and hello's and then the guy with the cap asks.

"so what's the emergency?"

"emergen-? OH"

"uh yes well the emergency is that my friend" you point to grace in the crowd, squeezed next to the girl who you planned to second handedly kiss in the next few minutes.

"has been staring at that girl all night but hasn't done anything because she didnt want to leave me alone on my very apparently special night" you motion inwards at yourself.

"thus. I am here as a hero to save her"

they laugh and step back, gesturing to the audio mixer. you had no idea how †o DJ and also no idea how to even find the song grace had requested.

you step forward, but turn your head slightly over your shoulder.

"names?" you'd ask for their names before you embarrassed yourself like this.

"max" the man who ushered you up the steps says.

"max" you repeat to him. and then nod towards the man with the cap.

"lando" he says.

"lando" followed by a slight giggle.

"okay lando and max I don't know what the fuck im doing so if you show me how to play a song then ill be on my way."

"what's your name?" lando asks

"Dylan"

"Dylan, move over" as he slots in next to you and plus with whatever the fuck was causing the music to do whatever the fuck it was doing. you whisper to him the song grace wanted and he tells you as he's doing it what some of the buttons do, you're not paying attention as such, the vodka sinking into your blood, eyes getting heavier, head getting lighter, your smiling in an uneasy way.

"your smile is really fucking creepy"

"shut up, all I've had tonight is strangers vodka limes and a bottle of 4 pound Prosecco you're getting creepy"

"hmmm" he nods at you

"hmmm" you squint your eyes and nods back.

your looking back out at your audience now, and you find grace finally. and she's, KISSING HER YES.

"FUCK YES, LOOK"

"what"

"LOOK" you grab his face and turn it towards grace and point.

"oh it worked"

"oh im a genius, she was right I should have a party for it every week"

"you're not a genius im just a great DJ"

"oh no but you see mr DJ I have 2 degrees already I am a genius"

a lie as you had finished neither of them, but you were drunk.

"shit how old are you" he leans in

"how old are you" you poke his chest.

"21" your head pulls back in slight shock

"christ you're a child my god, do you even have pubes yet? a degree?"

"oh and how old are you?"

" im 24 bald man"

"shut up I have pubes"

"yeah okay thank you mr DJ, its been fun"

"I don't have a degree though" he trails off.

"eh university is overrated anyway"

"really?"

"no" you pop the p and you weren't lying you needed to learn and you loved the routine.

"are you Australian?"

"did the no give me away"

"yes and you sound like the only other Australian I know"

"yes I am, im from Sydney, proud to be the 2nd Australian you know."

"should be, starting to like you better than the English"

"WE ARE" "I swear im not this patriotic when im sober"

"sure. would you let me buy you and your friend and her friend a drink?"

" oh so your rich, why of course wouldn't pass up on free alcohol."

you walked down the stairs meeting max at the bottom and found grace and her friend who introduced herself at "Jane" to you all. and you sat at the bar and talked for the next two hours. the lights were less intense and the alcohol was flowing through you, making all this conversation shamelessly easy. lando and max were funny and grace was the perfect following act, knowing just when to punch in while staying completely enamoured with jane.

"do you two just act like you hate each other all the time" you're speaking to max and lando who seem to be bickering 90% of the time.

"yes" they look at each other while they answer and you laugh.

“is that fun for you guys?”

they look at eachother again “yes”

before you look at the man standing above lando in the seat beside you. you look up at him before lando even notices anyones presence.

"hi im so sorry but are you lando Norris?"

you look at max with a look of "what the fuck?" and he ignored you completely.

"hey mate, yeah I am"

"oh my god, uh could we take a selfie?"

he takes a breath and for a minute you're thinking that he’s gonna say something like "no its actually not lando Norris because who the fuck is that" or a simple "no".

but he stands up and takes a selfie and the man thanks him profusely and walks away.

"um" your mouth slightly agape.

"your famous?" you head tilted to one side with the question.

"I guess"

max interjects "he's faking humble, yes he's famous"

"are you a porn star or something why are you so embarrassed"

they look at eahcother and throw their heads back.

"no i’m not a pornstar i just-" he says

"im a formula one driver" he admits

"formula one?" you rack your brain, it sounded oddly familiar.

"OH FORMULA ONE." your eyes widened

"right right right formula one, the car one, lewis Hamilton, champagne, Micheal Schumacher, Ferrari , grand prix, downforce. of course." the understanding was there

"yes that one, wait you didn’t know who I was"

“i thought that’s why you laughed at my name”

"i laughed at your name because i’m drunk, and it’s funny. i knew you looked familiar, i used to watch formula one. after uni started i forgot about it mostly must have missed your debut"

you seem to be speedily connecting dots

"oh yes the 2 degrees miss genius"

"about to be 3" you correct him

max speaks up "oh shit"

grace taps you on the shoulder and asks if you wanna catch an uber home and they could drop Jane back on the way. in a weird train of thought you vow you'd find your own way home and give her a nudge and a wink that you'd give her enough time with Jane to ........

she incessant but you reassure her that you'll stop drinking soon and text her on the way home, you have a key. lando says that he could even get in the uber with you, if that makes grace feel better.

you talk with lando and max for a bit longer after grace leaves, until at least 3am, in which max brings up the prospect of leaving. you do take the boys up on their offer getting into the uber with you,

threatening them that if they were to do anything harmful,

"I know who you are no lando Norris and max fewtrell, be nice"

chatting and laughing drunkenly all the way home, in fact much too drunk to remember he's a formula one driver and has a lot more money that your tiny flat above the home of an old lady with 4 cats. the car pulls up and before you get out lando catches your arm and says,

"can I get your number?"

you smile and take his phone.

"if your ever DJ-ing again, either of you" making sure to include max as you didn't want to make anything awkward, and that moment you liked lando, but purely in a friendly way. albeit sadly.

"call me and ill come running, well me and grace"

"as long as your paying for drinks again"

"never again" max pipes up

"hmmmmmm, bye bye mr famous and mr everyone sucks but golf"

you close the door, walk up the small stairs the front door, watch as the car drives off and unlock the front door, going inside, using your phone torch to navigate your way to the fridge. downing 2 litres of water, an electrolyte shot and the leftovers from last night. you go to sleep when the headspins stops and you don't ignore the 2 sleeping figures where usually only grace would lie.

unknown number:

3:46am

💬 everything good? didn't trip on the doormat or on anyones vomit?

you squint reading the message and remember the encounter with lando 20 minutes prior.

4:01am

💬 everything is swell, your heart may rest 😉

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo angst #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fic #f1 #f1 fic #lando norris #lando norris fic #max fewtrell #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one #daniel ricciardo series

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worldruins · 4 months

Text

It's bib time baybee

Blessings In Bloodshed (a self-given name, though not far from the original) is a reserved but stubborn iterator. They've made easing the pains and ailments of their own kind their life's work- or rather, the work of their second.. and third.. chances at life.

Built right around the time of the Great Equalizer, she was originally made to preserve and elevate an old pilgrimage site that would have been lost to the floods and changing landscape. It's a similar situation to the True Anointed Citadel, but BIB's monks were considerably more welcoming to them, and much of the original construction as well as many sacred artifacts were successfully disassembled and relocated to a new home atop the superstructure. Blessings was regularly in contact with the mortal sick and dying, and was regularly sought out to endorse a freshly-deceased individual's safe and fortunate passage to the next cycle. Even when he no longer does that sort of work, Blessings remains personally spiritual. He believes in the void as a conscious force acting upon the world, a benevolent but mercurial actor in the great forces of the universe.

BIB shares a group with True Accord, Uncast Shadows, Six Stunned Silences and (unofficially) Twelve Bound Hands. They consider all their groupmates siblings; TA and US are older than them, SSS and TBH are younger. The five of them have grown closer over time, connected by circumstance, need and the desire for family. That was not the case back when the creators of the iterators left their creations behind, and Blessings found herself profoundly alone. They were distraught, and felt that they had failed in their duties to their people. They tried to focus on their work, on the Big Problem they had been created for, but found themself unable to cope with the frustration and failures that felt more humiliating every time. Their chosen path forward was bioengineering, and they did grow skilled at working with biological materials, though they hardly felt accomplished.

Blessings In Bloodshed did not tell his groupmates when he decided to turn some of his resources towards figuring out how to destroy himself. She did not think she'd be able to ascend, or even to reverse their creators' very thorough work ensuring true death would not come for iterators like her. They just had to get close enough. They made a few attempts, none of them successful, all of them leaving a different sort of damage (physical or otherwise) behind. He might have been desperate, but when the rot came as a result of their final attempt at self-elimination, it was not welcomed. The despondent BIB finally reopened communications with the group to warn them of her condition. The disease was highly aggressive, and he predicted he only had some tens of thousands of days left before her structural integrity would fail.

With help from her group, Blessings survived the illness, though not before it had claimed more than half her structure- half her body, half her mind. He was surprised by the concern he received alongside the frustration that she hadn't reached out earlier. Their siblings- the iterators they would come to consider siblings- had been concerned and were now shocked by the state of their mild-mannered neighbor. They were a reason for Blessings to keep fighting. In the end, it was her own work that proved fruitful in treating and finally curing their own case of rot. That didn't mean reversing the damage, though- only that the cysts were dead and wouldn't spread or pose an active risk. It left him covered in scars, pockmarked metal and components rendered useless. Repairing themself involved creating organisms and constructs to carve them back into their original shape and break the dead rot back down into the materials they need.

Blessings had always been interested in medicine. It was not what her creators and residents asked of her, so her attention had never been devoted to it as a younger iterator. At most, they idly considered examining and treating mortals ("mortals" being the respectful name for the people who built iterators as a whole, in comparison to their towering creations), allowing the daydream some space in the back of their mind. He considered it something of a bitter irony when he wound up caring for himself in his own severe illness. Once the rot was under control and BIB had some space to breathe, though, they couldn't help wondering how effectively an iterator could act as a physician to other iterators. With their preexisting knowledge and everything they learned trying to save their own life, they were the best equipped to address their own group's ailments, from True Accord's widespread rust to Twelve Bound Hands, an illicit construction, literally falling apart. As their skills and confidence grew, they started looking outside their local group. They know the fate of their kind is inevitable, but their hope is to minimize suffering and stop other iterators from becoming insensate or nonfunctional before they're ready to be. It's a difficult, sometimes insurmountable task and their scope is very limited. That's not stopping them from trying.

BIB would never be the same as they were before their illness, and they're not really trying to be. He's forgetful, and easily baited. They were always something of a bleeding heart- pun intended-even more so after the rot. Their chosen "job" comes as a surprise with how sensitive they can be, but their friends know them as The Doc all the same.

The cracks all across Blessings' puppet aren't from the rot and they aren't self-inflicted- not really. But that's a whole other story. Thank you for reading about my bibby <3

#ruinart #rain world #iterator oc #rw #rain world oc #mine #oc: blessings in bloodshed #and of course the cws #suicide #as always feel free to ask me about bib i LOVE bib im normal about them

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ebonyslasher · 5 months

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Scary, Spicy, and Sweet? Pt. 2

Synopsis: You work as a new Nurse in Smith's Grove after finding a passion working with mentally ill patients. Impressed with your skills, Dr. Loomis assigns you to the infamous Michael Myers. His terrorizing activities take an odd, sexy turn that surprises you.

This is part 2. This one has 18+ content. Grown folks Only! Read part 1 here.

This is a request from soooo long ago for @hdhhffgjdhdhdbdbd. I do hope that you enjoy.

Discovering that you were not coming in, set Michael OFF.

Over the past 3 weeks, your reactions have amused him greatly. The shaking in your arms and legs made him chuckle. The short screams from his fake attacks made his cold heart race. However, his focus shifted to other aspects about you. You were very beautiful. Your beauty enhances your scared visage, making you more attractive each day. Your wide nostrils would cutely scrunch when you felt uncomfortable. The way your lips contorted made him want to nibble and suck. Wide mouth screams made him want to cover your mouth with his and dip his tongue into you. Those wonderful eyes of yours would blow up into the cutest way, like a small cat on alert.

Michael could not help but notice your smell. It was always so pleasant. He could not place the scent, but it was light and alluring. It made him inspect your body with increased interest. Your breasts looked delectable. Plump. Sometimes he could see your nipples after a good scare, making his dick jump in excitement. He wanted to watch those hips and ass jiggle as he chased you around, excited to catch his cute little nurse.

It was only yesterday that he realized that he found you the most adorable person he’s ever seen. These feelings, these thoughts were unlike him. He could not wait to explore these odd feelings with you. And now you took the day off?

He would make sure you never leave his side again.

—

“...Only doing this cause it’s damn 80 an hour….. fucking…. Michael ass Myers, big funky ass self!....and that weird ass doctor…” You mutter as you stomp through each steel double door, clocking into work, yet AGAIN.

Although you took the offer for extra money, you were still highly upset. You were already running yourself ragged with how often you worked. Surely the hospital was technically breaking some labor laws for allowing this. You should have had a few days off throughout those last few weeks. But that overtime pay was nice. Being aggressive with payments significantly cut down on your student loan debt in the past 7 months.

Still fuming, you make your way towards the nurses station to acquire the stock medication. While typing in the code to access the sedative, an idea pops into your head. Maybe if you administer the medicine as fast as possible, then you could go home sooner. Just stay for a few hours to get enough pay and clock out. Michael would be knocked out anyway and you’d just be sitting around. This was sounding like a good plan. Executing it though could be a problem.

The sedative deposits out of the machine and you read its label. While doing some calculations at your station, a fellow colleague known as Davis Sellers, comes into the area. The man looks distraught. Once he sees you, his shoulders visibly relax.

“Man, it's like I'm looking at an angel right now.” He sighs out.

“An angel? What’s gotten into you?” You asked, amused.

“That nigga Michael…went crazy as hell. I was getting the medicine ready right? Why I turn around and he looking at me cock eyed??? And then that motherfucker jumped at me ooooo noooo. Man, I was fighting for my damn life in there. Had to yell for backup.” During his story telling you had to look away and stifle your laugh. Sometimes, you hated how he told stories. It's not funny, but it's funny.

“Damn, well he better get some sense when I get in there. Cause he’s gonna get knocked the fuck out soon!” You replied, faking some confidence to uplift your work friend.

“Ay, good luck. If he tries something just yell. I got you.” David tells you as he comes over to pat your back in solidarity.

“Oh I will. I’m bout to go get this over with right now.” You gather the materials and begin to head out the station. You double back, squinting your eyes in suspicion. You had a feeling that you were forgetting something...the key! A golden, square shaped key sat beside your computer. You grab it, needing it to access Michaels’ room. Ready to get this ordeal over with, you speed walk towards his room.

Although you were excited, you were very apprehensive. There was unease hovering in the air as you approached his foreboding door. This man, with his sizable muscles and strict determination, was already riled up. David didn’t inform you specifically of how they left him. What exactly you were walking into was unknown, but you were ready to scream at any moment's notice. Standing in front of the door, you hoped that he wouldn’t continue the bull shit.

Shakily, you use the square key to open the door. And the first thing you see is Michael. He looks pitiful all wrapped up in a white straightjacket, mirroring the ‘crazy’ characters in movies. ‘Never thought I would see the straightjacket used in real life,’ you thought, slightly amused. The straightjacket looks like it fought for its life as well, scuff marks of unknown origin littering its ragged form. It looked like there was a second straight jacket weirdly wrapped around his muscular legs. How they did that, you didn’t know. As long as he couldn’t move, you were chill. Michael just sat awkwardly on his bed, leaning against the white wall, observing you like always.

You don’t even mutter a greeting when you turn to the nearest counter to lay your materials onto. You absentmindedly lay the key near the edge of the counter, closest to the door as you begin to open the materials. While doing so, you felt eyes on your form. This makes you turn unconsciously towards the source looking dead set at you. It felt as though he was staring harder than usual. Weirdly enough, it looks like he was…happy? That interpretation was probably very incorrect. But as you approached to observe how you would administer the medicine, there was a gut feeling that you were right.

The initial dilemma of administering the sedative was the location. ‘Which area would be low risk…?’ The drug had to be administered in his veins, so it could act the fastest. Your two choices were between the leg or arm. ‘

You regard his legs, which were twisted up in a complex fashion in the confining jacket. It would be a high risk to try to tackle that mess to get to one leg. There’s a chance that both legs could get free. He could kick the fuck out of you and try to get out of the room. No bueno. So, the arm it is.

You look to the nearest arm, on his right side. It’s still a risk, but a better option, since the straight jacket was easier to navigate. Time was of the essence and you had already spent ample time regarding the situation. Excited at the thought of relaxing at your station, you grab his right arm and disassemble the jacket slightly to get to it. His biceps felt strong and smooth underneath. It was nice and a little distracting. A warm fuzzy feeling gathers in your abdomen. Pressing on, you ignore that odd feeling. Now's not the time to notice attractive things about a very dangerous patient.

Pulling the arm from the jacket, you're surprised that it drops limp onto the mattress. Maybe David gave him a quick sedative while wrestling him? Something to where he couldn’t move fast? Pondering about that doesn’t matter. Getting him fully knocked out was the end goal. You move back to wash and sanitize your hands and some equipment. You manipulate the syringe to slowly take up the medicine. Placing the needle on top, you screw it on and flick the tube to rid of any air bubbles. During the preparation, you could still feel those heavy eyes watching you. Turning back, with the medicine ready, you steel yourself. Sliding towards the Shape, you grab his limp arm.

If you could rewind time, you would have taken the time to question David about all the details of their scuffle. Namely, if he was able to give a quick sedative to Michael before leaving the room. Because suddenly, he grabs your hand, twisting it painfully. You yelp, trying to pull your hand away from his painful grip. As you pull, he lets go, causing you to stumble and drop the medication. Onto the fucking mattress. He grabs it and uses his thumb to bend the needle and crushes the syringe in his palm like it was nothing. The clear liquid sedative leaks from his fist.

You stand awkwardly against the wall. This was terrifying. You want to scream, but your vocal chords stopped working. You mentally yell at your legs to ‘RUN!’ but, your legs are like mush. While your chance to escape was escaping right in front of you, Michael tore off the rest of the jacket. Those jackets are thick and he rips into it easily. Now both his hands were free. The Shape takes those long fingers to tear at the mess around his legs.

It seems like now your dumb legs want to run. You attempt to scramble to the door, but Michael magically grabs you and throws you onto the bed. Fuck. Now, he’s at the door, free to do whatever he likes. And it seems that the first target is you. Your teary eyes stare horrifically at his tall form. His stoic facial expression slowly warps into a small smile.

You say nothing. Just staring at him, in survival mode to see what he would do next. Maybe, you could dart past him when he moves? But he moves first, twisting slightly to grab that key you sat on the counter. He calmly lifts it and places it on top of the highest cabinet in the room. There is no way you could reach that. Michael stalks forward and in turn you scrunch your eyes closed. You did not want to watch your last moments play out.

You feel him firmly clasping your arms. It makes you tense and squeak. But nothing happens. A few seconds go by and he's still holding your arm. Actually, he isn't even hurting you. Confused, you flutter your eyes open to look up at Michael, who was looming over you with an unreadable expression. His hands awkwardly slither down your forearms, down to your wrists. He holds the left one in place, and lifts your right hand. He expertly and quickly adjusts his hands around your wrist for more mobility. He pulls your hand and places it on his crotch. Your eyes widen, and his dick pulsates under your palm.

Okay, what the fuck was going on?! Were you going to die?! Where’d this come from?

The absurdity of the situation finally made you speak, “Michael…” You meant for that to be questioning, instead it sounded…pleading? Forthcoming?

He leans forwards, his handsome face coming towards you. His face is blank as he connects his lips to your forehead. ‘Did..he just kiss me?’ Could you even say it was really a kiss? It’s more of a placement of lips to your forehead. A few seconds pass before he pushes his lips out. You couldn’t even hear the smack. Just feeling soft lips wetting your forehead. Now you're very confused. He is exceedingly soft for an emotionless killer.

Michael lowers himself to the bed, never taking his eyes off your face. It's unnerving the way he stares at you. What will he do next?

You didn’t have to wonder long, as he takes his hands from your wrists and brings it to your breast. He squeezes experimentally and starts playing with them. Good lord, you were getting sexually assaulted by this awkward ass serial killer. His awkwardness made you want to take over and show him what to do.

Wait, whoa, no. You should feel like going home, out of here, to safety. You did not want this to continue, no matter how his pretty blue eyes looked at your face. He really was handsome though. And those hands felt so good squeezing your eager breast.

Fuckkkk noooo. No, you were not going to form a weird complex about this man, this monster. You’ve seen how weird those white fangirls were to these killers online, you were not going to go down like this. During your quick morality freak out, you remember that your palm was still on his dick. You start to pull away, but Michael stops. Then you stop. He takes his hands and makes sure to firmly replace your hand on his crotch. So scary. In an effort to try to ensure your survival, you decided to just play along to his exploration.

You circle your palm, feeling his cock continuously jump. And jump. And jump. You squeeze and feel just how thick he was. Damn. This man was packing. It made you feel hot. ‘Okay stick to the plan,’ you can’t get distracted. You continue as he plays with your breast. He breathes heavily as he comes closer, kissing your forehead again. Making your body and mind feel all confused. This continues for some time, before Michael stops and rips your scrub top open.

Your boobs pop out, slightly spilling over the old bra you should have thrown away long ago. You gasp as you look down at your ruined shirt. Looking back up, you see those beautiful blue eyes widen, mesmerized by your breast. He looks up at your face, watching your reaction. It felt hypnotizing being looked at with such desire. Michael studies your breast again. It was beginning to feel torturous with him just looking and doing nothing. It’s making you antsy. And it got to the point where you took his hands and put it on your breast.

This surprises Michael, who ardently caresses the exposed skin in apparent apprehension. You sigh at his touch, fingers interestingly soft for a killer like him. Before you could begin to question your recent actions, he pulls down your bra. Your nipples harden, now exposed to the world inside Michaels’ eyes. Not hesitant any longer, Michael replaces his hand onto your breast and begins to play. You sigh in pleasure at the lovely kneading he was giving.

But, you want more. The rest of your body began to feel neglected,the desire running through your veins asking for more pleasure. This made you reach for the bottom of his shirt and place your hands under it to rub his abs. Which were heavenly. Every groove of hard muscle excites you more. Your exploration leads you to squeeze his pecs and pinch his nipples.

Michael is a bit startled by your newfound enthusiasm. But, he was not going to stop your actions. It looks as though he enjoys this new sensation of being touched so gently, his eyes becoming half-lidded in response. Michael’s handsome self has such kissable lips. It spurs you to think about showing him what a real kiss is supposed to be like.

You lean towards his face to plant a kiss on those pink lips. Michael stops, eyes wide from this sensation. You end the kiss and lean back slightly, observing in glee how awkwardly surprised he is. It makes you desire him even more. Kissing him again, you begin to give him a personal tutorial. The man is a quick learner, which is proven when he starts kissing back. It's a bit of a mess of lips colliding, but it starts to tighten up quickly.

Your moist tongue licks the bottom of his lips slowly, asking for permission inside. He opens his mouth slightly. You thank whoever was caring for him today that his breath smelled fresh. Your tongue enters his mouth and you start to guide your tongue into his mouth. It's a couple of pulses before his tongue slides with yours. Finally, you two were making out. Interchanging between pecks, long kisses, and tongue caressing made you wetter than ever. You could sense the heat pooling in your panties.

You weren't the only one wet, as you pull away to look at Michaels’ crotch. There lies a big wet stain on the pants of one leg, where his dick uncomfortably pulsed. You wanted him inside you so badly. So so badly. The outline of his big dick makes you moan softly. Michaels ears pick up the sexy sound, making his cock pulse fiercely. He backs up, jumping off of the mattress. You watch in interest to what he does next.

Thankfully for you, he strips his clothing, baring his whole body to you. ‘Oh my god’. It was a crime that a man this dangerious looks so fucking fine. His arms hold bulging biceps that make you drool. The muscles on his long torso are marvelous. His breasts look juicy and abs hard as a rock. Good lord. Your eyes travel down to brown curled wisps that adorned his crotch. His dick was standing prettily between his luscious legs. His pre-cum dripping from his pink head, pooling onto the mattress. Bringing yourself forward, you start crawling seductively on all fours towards him. You make sure to emphasize your hips as you do so. Your head is level with his dick. Through your pretty eyelashes, you look up. He looks down, waiting for you to do whatever you want. You bring your lips to the head and experimentally lick. His cock bounces back onto your tongue, pre cum spilling onto your tastebuds. He tenses in surprise.

You lick around his head and lower your mouth around his dick.He clenches his fist. You go as far down as you can, slightly choking on the amazing girth and length of his cock. He makes a strange strangled noise. You stay there, nostrils flaring as you breathe through your nose. You wait until you feel the saliva gather in your mouth before starting to suck his dick. You start bobbing, the sounds of saliva slushing as you move and suck. Michael curls his toes, and moans low. Luscious lips cover his cock, saliva drips onto the mattress, on your face, and moves down your neck as you continue. The amount of saliva produced was ludicrous, often causing you to spit more out onto his cock.

Michael could not take this any longer. He brings his hands to your hair and pulls back gently. While your head is bent back, he observes the state of your gorgeous face. Strings of saliva sit upon your face, under your nose and across the bottom half of your cheeks. It's an alluring sight. He bends down to kiss you, bringing his tongue straight into your mouth. The taste of himself doesn’t phase him.

He takes his hands and pushes you back onto the bed, back hitting the mattress. Michael quickly rids you of your pants and panties in one go. You lay there, legs slightly open to give Michael a teasing view.He looks at your pussy, glistening with your wetness. It covers your inner thighs. He brings himself back onto the mattress, taking your legs and spreading them further apart. He stares at your pussy inquisitively. Then looks up at you.

He does nothing as he interchanges his view of your face and your vagina. This again. It was getting frustating and you were ready to be fucked.

“Touch me…rub it, please...” you beg. Michael obliges, taking his fingers and rubs right onto the mysterious button poking out at him. It makes you tense up and moan loudly. He quickly rubs it again, addicted to the sounds you were making. You keep moaning, instructing him to put a finger inside.

It slides inside and its bliss. You plead for more. He adds a second finger, causing your opening to stretch. The moisture inside squelches as he twists. He experimentally rubs around, feeling the soft bumpy inside on your canal. Each movement makes you go crazier, your breath is heavy.

You scoot away, not wanting his fingers in you anymore. You want something much bigger.

“I want you inside me,” you state seductively.

His eyebrows raise. He sits up, cock in full view. You position yourself, legs behind your head ready for missionary. He enters and you both gasp. Michael scrunches his eyebrows while yours raises. The feeling was delicious. He starts moving, eyes desperately glued to your face. The faces you were making were erotic, burning into his memory. Michael didn’t want to miss a moment. Continuous strokes make your soul sing. His cock digs deeper, making you whine. Michael switches his angle and it sends you over. You climax, vagina spasming on his dick. Michael is mesmerized by your intense reaction.

He doesnt cum, purposefully. He wants to watch you climax beautifully more. It will make his release intense. Michael backs up and leaves the bed. With his strength, he lifts you and places you against the door. Your face and arms smush against the door as he lifts your legs. Michael lines himself up and starts fucking you. His strokes reverberate through your body, causing the door to vibrate. It was then that you remembered where you were. You cover your mouth with one hand to stifle your whines. It’s a challenge, considering Michael is becoming an expert at sex.

It’s still a real struggle to hold everything in as he fucks your second orgasm of the evening. Your eyes roll back and you try to breathe through. Michael pulls out and lifts you back to the bed, plopping your form down onto the mattress. He gently presses your head to the mattress and guides your bottom into the air. Oh, so he wants doggy style. Quickly, you arch your back and fix yourself in the position. Michael stared graciously at your lovely backside. He plunges himself into your heavenly canal.

Michael fucks you at a faster pace in doggystyle. The slaps from the skin contact fill the room. He grabs the back of your neck, squeezing slightly. Taking advantage of the position, you play with your clit. The pleasurable sensation builds up to your third climax. Michael allows this to be his first as you both finish at the same time. You feel Michaels’ dick pulse as he fills you up. He pulls out to watch his semen glide out of your pink hole.

Satisfied and sore, you fall onto your side. He sits back onto the bed as you catch your breath. You look over and he's observing you. The side of his mouth quirks up in a small smirk. He almost looks happy. Before you could register that interesting reaction, Michael gets up. You twist to watch as he walks over to the top cabinet and gets the key. He places it on the counter. Calmly, The Shape walks back and relaxes on his bed. Taking this as a cue, you get up. However, your legs are jelly. It feels ridiculous trying to hobble over to the counter. During your tumultuous journey, you gather what’s left of your clothes. The pants and panties were in good condition. You note that you had your bra on your body the whole time. But…your shirt. Ah!

Thankfully, you remember that there's extra shirts in a drawer in his room.After pulling down the white shirt, you turn to look at him again.

What could you say? Thanks for the mind blowing sex? You got me a little obsessed? He looks deceptively docile sitting there. His eyes tell you that he wants you to stay. But…you couldn’t. Although you wish you could, so you wouldn’t have to face the reality of what you’ve done. In the meantime, you decide to approach him, giving him one last kiss on the lips. Gathering the energy to leave, you collect what materials you could and make your way out. You give one last look to your new lover. Even though you leave physically, you know that you’re mentally hooked.

#michael myers #slasher x reader #black reader #grown folks business #18+

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