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thoughtsfromlayla · 3 days

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Chapter Three - Anguish

Summary: The error of his ways is seen in a new light. Morpheus realizes that perhaps he is the monster he claims he is not.

Notes: ~7.4k words. This chapter flips between Reader and Morpheus a bit since they're not always together so I apologize if the timeline is confusing... Lightly edited, if you see the tenses switching between past and present, no you didn't

Warnings/Tags: more angst, self destruction/mental breakdown. Morpheus learning he's the problem

Tag list is open! Just let me know if you want to be added :)

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That night, the King doesn't join you at dinner. Your company is that of footmen and maids as they try to not stare at you eating alone at the long table. The next night, he doesn't show again, nor the next, nor the night after that. Matthew and you have begun to fall into a comfortable silence as he follows you around.

The knight is starting to take his role more seriously and even resists eating another bug in front of you when you go back to your garden and tend to the nursery plants. In turn, you have started to talk to your plants, even if you know they won't respond back. You fear if you never use your voice again, it may as well be lost.

A common bird in a golden cage, with no one to sing to.

It is to none of your surprise when you walk into the private dining room and see the empty seat across from your place. Again. The royal chef always cooks enough for two, and he didn’t hold back tonight either.

It is so unbearably quiet when you eat, you can hear each chew of your food, every scrap of your silverware against the plate, each clink of the glass back onto the table. Looking down at your half-eaten food, you’ve long lost your appetite.

Perhaps you would’ve had your fill if your mind wasn’t constantly running with thoughts, feeding into your loneliness. These thoughts formed into hideous monsters that follow you no matter where you went in the palace. In every crevice, every nook, in every page you want to read. It was exhausting, to say the least. You could feel them as tingles on the back of your head and through the whispers of palace staff and attendants.

“I am done for the night,” You announce as you push away your half-finished dinner.

“Was the food not to your liking, Your Majesty?” A maid came by to take your plate as you stood.

“It was adequate, I simply am done. Thank you.” You send a small smile to her before you leave.

Matthew was waiting for you when you exited the room. His armor jostles as he stands up straight, seemingly surprised at how fast you finished your dinner. You don’t wait for him as you already set your sight on your bed, walking with purpose down the long halls. Your head was pounding, again, and sleep seemed like the perfect resolution to the problem.

“Was the food that good?” He asks behind you.

“I can’t complain, not any good as any bugs you have eaten?” You ask in a small joke.

Mathew doesn’t bother with a response. He had in fact eaten bugs again, but this time nowhere near his queen in fear that Jessamy is going to randomly appear in front of him again. A blush creeps onto his cheeks as he thinks of the woman and he’s glad for the cover of his raven helmet. Whether the blush was from embarrassment or admiration, he isn't quite sure of yet.

“You can leave for the night, Matthew. I’m going straight to bed,” You say as soon as the two of you make it to your room.

“I still can’t do that, as you know. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” Matthew comments and remains in position with no plans of leaving.

With a sigh of resolution, you enter the room. The maids haven't arrived yet to light any candles, too busy eating their own dinners. So it was up to you to undress yourself. Thankfully, Agnes was kind that night and left the corset untieable by your hands. You pick a random nightgown to wear and head straight to bed.

Your headache is still prevalent, but with your head against the cooling pillow, the intensity seems to dwindle slowly. Pulling the covers over your chin you close your eyes as you beg for sleep to come to you.

♔♕

In a different part of the castle, sits Morpheus. He rubs his fingers against his temples as yet another piece of paper is placed down in front of him. Lucienne stands in front of his daunting desk with even more in her hands. His dinner plate has long since been forgotten, cold and with only a few bites taken out of it. The fork stabbed into the meat in a most unprofessional way; if his mother saw this, she would have his hands spanked.

“Is this the last of it?” Morpheus asks slowly as he picks up the parchment.

“Do you want me to lie… or…” Lucienne drags out the last syllable as she speaks. She peers at her King over her glasses as she does so. The stacks of papers in her hands were obvious enough.

“Ha!” A new voice laughs.

“Something funny, Robert?” Morpheus basically spits out his name.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t know laughing was banned in the castle,” The man holds up his hands in fake surrender. He lays languidly on some grand couch, a hand resting over his eyes and his legs folded over each other. “Also, seriously, we’ve been friends for how long? Just call me Hob.”

“No,” Morpheus mutters and returns his attention back to the paper on hand. Hob throws out his hands in exasperation as he gives a look to Lucienne, who only returns it with a shrug.

The markings on the large piece of parchment were starting to swirl together, or his eyes were beginning to become crossed. Either way, there was no way he could make out anything. With a groan, he throws the paper back on the table and rests his head on the back of his chair.

Flashes of his discussions today play in his mind. There was the possibility of a drought this year, and last year’s food rations had already run out. He needs to think of something for the farmers. Desire’s pettiness is still willing to wage some unknown war on his kingdom, but he currently has no information about their plans, only that they managed to wrangle Despair into their plans. Then, his out-of-commissions brother, who decided to leave the country to “find himself.” Whatever that means.

Then there was his wife who he hadn't seen for several days in hopes of avoiding you. His lover who won’t even speak to him alone. His older sister, whom he has no idea where she is. There was too much on his plate, and he could feel each new task weighing down on his shoulders.

With another groan, he presses his palms into his eyes, making swirling patterns behind his eyelids. When he opens them again, Lucienne is waiting patiently for him.

“Shall we stop here for the night, my lord?” She asks.

“Gods, please, let’s stop now.” Hob comments, voice slowly slurring as he fights sleep.

“Robert, you did not help at all. How can you be tired?” Morpheus glares at his friend though he knows he can’t see him do so.

Hob doesn’t bother with a verbal response, instead faking a loud snore with a slight smirk on his lips.

“Let us continue,” Morpheus sighs and picks up the parchment for the third time.

“Actually, there is something I wanted to bring up,” Lucienne pauses and waits for Morpheus’ attention before she continues. “Just gossip, really… There’s rumors going around that you didn’t consummate your wedding, is it true?”

“The rumors… are quite true,” Morpheus admits, unable to lie to his loyal advisor.

Surprise takes over Lucienne’s face as she hears the news. She blinks as she tries to think of an appropriate response. Witnessing how the two of you acted a few days ago, she felt as if something was off, but she didn’t think it was because of this.

“Then you must consummate at once, it’s for the betterment of the kingdom,” She responds calmly, holding his gaze.

“Is it?” He huffs out a small, fake laugh. The question was not at all genuine, and sarcasm lay heavily within it. “It is none of anyone’s concern except ours. Though, you should find a way to stop the rumors. They are doing more harm than good within my walls.”

Lucienne does little to hide the displeased look on her face. Why was it her responsibility to stop the rumors, didn’t Morpheus just say the concern is none of hers?

“He’s saying he can’t get laid, is all I’m hearing,” Hob voices his thoughts once more.

“Stop jesting or I will hang you by your inflated head,” Morpheus growls at him.

“No, you won’t. Or else you lose 50% of your friends. And that, my friend, is some pretty bad math.” Hob scoffs.

The titled royal heaves as he sits up, his outfit having long since wrinkled from his position. The tunic was starting to wrap a bit tighter around his abdomen and he swears he will start exercising the next day. Perhaps get back into the sport of hunting before his body gets wasted away. But that was a thought for the next day, or the day after if tomorrow didn’t suit his taste.

“Ignoring him,” Lucienne quickly interjects the two men loudly. “I think it wise if you were to do something for your wife. If she doesn’t look so forlorn, perhaps the rumors will stop on their own. They’re obviously feeding off something.”

The message was clear for both Lucienne and Hob: “You’re acting like a shit husband and everyone can tell.” Morpheus was willing to brush off the topic, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind agreed with them. He stares at the bracelet that wraps itself on his wrist, following the red string that intertwined with the black. The King doesn’t voice it often, or ever for that matter, but Lucienne and Hob’s company were always appreciated.

The king taps his finger against the wooden desk in thought.

Fate.

What a horrible thing.

“I will think of something.” His words were the final verdict of the night.

♔♕

Your morning starts as it always has. With a sharp tug of the bell, Agnes’ face is the first to greet you. Sleep is still evident on your face, the early retirement last night wanting you back in its grasp. Agnes and her maids dress you in something simple today, the weather is far too hot for anything else.

“Anything planned for me today?” You gasp as your lady’s maid pulls the last string on the corset. She should become a sailor instead if she can tie ropes this tight.

“None of your schedule, Your Majesty.” She responds as she backs away from you, a satisfied smile on her face as she gives you one last look over.

“Great,” You grit through your teeth. Same as always then.

Agnes gives a curtsy and she and her army of maids leave you once more. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you cross your arms over yourself. The self-hug was all you had going for you. Long since another person touched you and even if you missed the way your mother treated you, you long for her gentle touches on your scalp.

With a deep breath you open the door, perhaps a little more forceful than necessary. As always, Matthew is waiting for you. This time, however, he’s standing with his hand raised in a fist, ready to knock on the door before you open it.

“You scared me,” You say with a sharp intake of breath. “And why are you staring at me like that?” If you were wearing pearls today, you might as well be clutching them.

“G’morning, boss lady!” Matthew greets you as he looms over you in his armor. It was ironic how stoic his armor set made him look, only for his personality to be the complete opposite of it.

“Is there a special occasion?” You reply with a smile. This was the first time he used the term “boss lady” for you and you remember him asking ever so nicely those days ago.

“The king handed me this, he said it was for you and that special locked door we found on your first day here.” Matthew opens his palms and a single key is laid within it.

When you go to pick it up, it’s heavy and rustic and reminds you of something that would lock up the basement. There was a small note attached to it which read “something for you to do” written in excellent penmanship by His Majesty.

“He touched me…!” Matthew’s voice gushes a mile away in your head as you reread the note. Morpheus remembered that you wanted something to do. That was new, you were sure he had even forgotten you existed ever since that unplanned visit in the gardens.

“That makes one of us,” You mutter back at him. The snide comment didn’t process all that well in your mind before it launched itself from your mouth.

“Do you think it means I’m blessed by the Gods now?” Matthew asks, choosing to ignore the statement.

“More like cursed…” You respond absentmindedly again.

Your fingers go to touch the bracelet the Crone had given you. You did try to take it off your wrist, several times. But each time proved futile as the string just twists tighter around your wrist until your hand turns purple. It only returned to its normal size after you stopped fiddling with it. Blessed by the Fates or cursed? At this point, you’re starting to think these two are the same thing.

The string bracelet glows with a soft and warm touch as you touch it this time. Perhaps there is hope for the two of you yet; a gesture was a start. At the very least, Morpheus hasn’t forgotten about you.

Before you know it, you stand before the grand doors once more. Its secrets are no longer hidden from you as you insert the key. With a sharp jiggle, the key turns and the resounding click of the large locking mechanism opens for you. A simple push was enough to open the doors.

Rows upon rows and aisles upon aisles of books greeted you. Staircases and ladders ascended upwards to even more beautifully bound pages of knowledge, other worlds, and art. Your jaw slackens at the sheer beauty of it.

Natural light was in abundance as you see dust and dust sprites floating in the air. The dust sprite glowed brightly, the only thing you could make out was their insanely fast-beating wings as one flew past you. Their chatters were nothing but the sound of jingling bells and gibberish as they held conversations with each other. One sneezed, a light sound and new dust exploded into the air.

They part as you walk into the library, running your fingers across the spines of a few books. The feeling of parchment and bound leather briefly remind you of home and the library it housed as well. Though this was much grander, the sentiment was still felt.

Muffled human voices catch your attention, and when you round the corner a familiar face greets you.

“Lucienne,” You say excitedly and your smile grows when she acknowledges you.

“My Lady!” She says in surprise, eyebrows shooting to the high heavens.

“Oh… the something he thought of…” The other person whispers to himself.

When he notices that your attention is on him, he clears his throat and introduces himself.

“Sir Robert, erm, Hob Gadling of Bourneberrel.” He drops an exaggerated bow, flourishing his arms as he does so. An easy smile rests on his lips as he comes back up.

“Bourneberrel? I haven’t traveled there before,” You respond.

“Ah, good wine, even better hunting grounds. I would love to host Her Majesty over the summer.” Hob’s arms are spread out as he describes his land to you with a tone of nostalgia.

“I would be delighted, so long as our King finds privy to the idea.”

“Eh, knowing him, I unfortunately doubt he will.” Hob runs his earlobe as his plans suddenly fall apart before they can form.

“How do you know him? The King?” You ask, sudden interest perked.

“Oh, our families are old friends, been with him since we started primary school together. Though, that’s nothing to our Lucienne here. She’s been here since they were both in diapers,” Hob explains with a soft smile. He gestures to Lucienne as he does so, who is more interested in rearranging books at the moment than the conversation.

“So the two of you must be familiar with royal life,” You say.

“I would say so, I spend more time here than in my own estate. Though, my late wife would not have complained much,” Hob sighs with a distanced look.

“I’m sorry to hear that, my condolences for your loss.”

Hob nods at your comment, thanking you silently for your condolences. He misses his wife and his son whom he left out of conversation. It would have made it all the more depressing and he didn’t want to make your life any more difficult. Perhaps in a different time and circumstance, with a little bit of alcohol in his system.

A silent pause fills the room, only accompanied by the squeak of the chair as Hob sits back down and Lucienne files through her books. You turn to leave, no longer wishing to bother the two. However, something stops you and you turn back around.

“Is there something that I can do here?” You chew the inside of your cheek after you ask. Your breath held in anticipation in hopes that there would be something.

“Is there anything Your Majesty pertains to?” Lucienne's question comes soon after. Her glasses fall down her nose a bit and she pushes it back in place with the back of her finger.

You think for a moment, looking around at the library. You enjoyed reading, but that was something you could do on your own time. If Lucienne was going to offer you something to do, it should be worth thinking about. You dig through your hobbies and when you decide on one, you look her dead in the eyes and speak.

“Painting, is there anything here for painting?” You take another step forward towards Lucienne at your request. It may be a long shot, but it’s worth asking.

Lucienne and Hob share a look, exchanging a conversation using only their eyes. After a particular look from Lucienne, Hob stands and beckons you to follow him. Excitement courses through you as you fall in step with him. You fight back a smile as the two of you venture further into the library.

Hob leads you to another set of doors. He stops and takes a deep breath, then he opens them to a studio. Easels, canvases, unfinished pieces, and paint buckets greet you as he leads you further inside. Dust sprites scurry away in fright at the sudden intrusion, whizzing past your hair.

In the corner of your eye, you see Matthew flinch at the sudden intrusion and you wonder if he got spooked by the sprites or if he was fighting back the urge to grab one for a taste. Matthew moves to stand by the door, guarding the entrance as Hob continues speaking.

“This is, was…sorry, my wife’s studio,” He says after a deep breath. His finger glides across an unfinished portrait of him and his wife.

Hob looked happier in the painting, clean-shaven and fit. His wife hung onto him by his arm, but her face was unfinished, leaving only a blank canvas of her skin tone. Hob thought he was over the death of his sweet Eleanor, but grief never truly leaves you, does it? It waits in the memories of your treasured loved ones and hurts you all the same when you recall them.

“I can not possibly take this from you…” You say softly as you watch him. His face falls as he finds another canvas, this time of a young man.

“My son,” He cries out as he holds the canvas in his shaking hands. “Forgive me,” He apologizes as he sees you staring at him, his own vision blurring from his tears.

Hob is quick to leave the studio, the portrait of his son still in his arms. Before he fully leaves the space, he turns to you.

“I want you to know that I do not regret coming back here.” He pauses to collect himself. “These memories… They are sad but they are all I have of my family. My wife, she would have wanted it if you showed this studio love again.”

Hob leaves by shutting the door and you hear him sigh once more on the other side before his footsteps recede. It takes a few moments longer for you to unstick yourself from your position. You explore the space a bit more, occasionally looking towards the door in case Hob returns and goes back on his words.

Reluctantly, you set up a blank canvas on the easel and begin to paint. Finally, there was somewhere to put your emotions to. Your thoughts take control of the brush as it swipes across the linen canvas. It dips, swipes, swirls, and blots as an image slowly begins to form.

You place everything you could into the image, the emotions that you’ve bottled up since you’ve arrived. What were you doing wrong here? Was it enough to really harbor such hate from Morpheus? From the helpers and gossip mongers that will never truly know you for who you are?

When you set your brush down, you stare at the art you’ve produced. A lone swan in a vast lake has its head hung low. The scenery was beautiful, but the algae and duckweed around the lone animal were slowly dying as it cried out for help.

♔♕

Another week has passed since you arrived at the library. And like every night, Morpheus doesn’t show up for dinner. Instead, he stays alone in his office, having long since dismissed Lucienne from her duties for the night. He sits pondering, his entire day he wondered if you liked the gift he gave you. He’s heard of your exploration adventures and knows of your attempts to enter the library.

Lucienne’s library isn’t the only one in the castle, but it certainly is the most special. Not only is it the largest, but only a select few may enter it. Last week, you would’ve joined the concise list of guests permitted within its walls.

Morpheus tells himself it was so it would be easier to face you when the two of you have to host the Summer Eclipse Gala that’s coming soon. On that day, once every year, the celestial lovers Sun and Moon meet. For that one night, the people of the Dreaming drink, dance, and feast until they can no longer understand the physical world. Then, when the total eclipse locks in place, it sends the kingdom into darkness for the rest of the day.

It was a wondrous occasion, even he cannot deny it. At the very least, the two could pretend to be amiable during the celebration. They would have to put up a unified front so as not to spread any more rumors about their marriage. However much Morpheus hated the idea of it.

Time passes as he stays within his thoughts, before he knew it the moon was high in the sky. Its fullness illuminated his path as he took a midnight stroll. It had recently rained, covering the colonnade to his gardens in a thin layer of water. Petichor follows him from the castle to the outdoors as he breathes in the earthy scent.

He doesn’t really know where he’s going, only that when he is out here, no one can bother him; no responsibilities could chase him. He didn’t have to be king in the dead of night. When it was simply the moon, gentle and caring as She, he could breathe. The moon’s dominion over the night sky casts a blue glow over his figure, illuminating his pale skin as he basks in Her guidance with closed eyes.

When he opens them again, a small flickering figure stands before him. The figure grows two flame-like limbs and motions Morpheus towards itself. The will-o-the-wisp glows a warm yellow and slowly turns purple when Morpheus walks closer to it. He glances at the moon one last time before the will-o-the-wisp disappears.

Just as it disappears, another one appears further down the path. Slowly, it turns purple just as the last did when Morpheus walks closer. The will-o-the-wisp lead him further from his original path, taking him deep into the gardens. His pants gather leftover raindrops as he walks across the flowers.

When he looks in disgust at his foot after stepping in a particularly deep puddle, he notices that the will-o-the-wisps he had been following have gathered around his legs. They dance between his legs and try to untie his shoelaces, though with their astral bodies, they find difficulty in doing so. Morpheus only rolls his eyes as another one gathers with its friends and a new yellow will-o-the-wisp beckons him again.

A soft humming pulls him out of his small quest and he notices that the will-o-the-wisp no longer appeared. He follows the humming, and in the pale moonlight, he sees you. The will-o-the-wisp that gathered around him trill in excitement as they notice you as well. They fly towards you so fast their flames almost flickered out in the cool night air.

Morpheus watches in awe, jaw slackening as you move across the pavilion under the moonlight. If the moon was kind to him, then She absolutely dotes on you. Her light hugs your figure like a cloak, passing through the fabric of your clothing, and leaves close to nothing to the imagination. Morpheus finds himself unable to move, simply entranced by your beauty.

He stands as the will-o-the-wisp surrounds you, holding hands as they dance with you. Your humming continues, not noticing the little fire sprites. Your feet were bare and you wore simple clothing, as if you had snuck out of your room not too long ago. Your arms were held up as if dancing with an imaginary partner as you twirled again across the mosaic flooring.

Morpheus recalls the conversation you two shared on your eventful wedding night, about how you loved to dance. How much has he avoided you to the point of you dancing alone in the middle of the night? The question zips across his mind like an icicle to lava and guilt takes over him. Just as fast as it appeared, he buried it deep and let anger take its place instead. He needed to have a serious conversation with his eldest brother. At his departure, the will-o-the-wisps leave your side and follow Morpheus. His robe billows behind him as he abruptly turns, the sound hidden behind the whispers of the wind, leaving you all the more ignorant to his presence.

♔♕

It was easier said than done to sneak out of your own room. Matthew, ever loyal to his station, was posted outside your door. And no matter how long you waited by it, listening carefully for his unforgettable snoring so you could sneak past him, midnight came sooner.

Your room was becoming stuffy and even standing out on the balcony felt like you were trapped. You only considered it once, barely fornicating the plan in your head before you threw yourself over the ledge and climbed down the ivy that scaled the side of the castle. The bark was surprisingly soft under your skin as you slowly made your way downwards.

When your feet touch the cooling grass beneath you, a smile erupts from your face. Goosebumps scatter across your body as the night air easily nips through your sleepwear but you pay it no mind as you begin to wander. Eventually, you find yourself back in the royal gardens. A pavilion with astronomical stars scattered beneath you greets you in the dead of night.

You peek around you, even though you’re sure no one would be awake so late. Then, carefully, you tiptoe onto the pavilion, the stone proving much colder than the grass. You don’t mind, though, and slowly begin to hum to yourself to fill the silence of the night. Humming turns to dancing as you pretend you aren’t dancing alone, but rather attending a grand ball where you get to wear your favorite dress and gems. When you close your eyes, you hear laughter as you twirl, and the sound of glass clinking against each other. The wind blows and you swear you could hear the draw of strings as the orchestra begins their next piece.

A twig snaps and echoes across the garden and you stop, your eyes opening quickly. The full moon gave you enough light to see a silhouette hidden within the trees, but not enough to make out who it was. You suddenly feel exposed and slowly back away from the silhouette. Matthew’s name perches on the tip of your tongue at any given notice.

“Well, hello there,” The silhouette speaks and comes into the moonlight. He joins you in the pavilion, hands placed inside his suit pockets.

His smile was charismatic, posture perfect, and any question as to whether or not he was a part of the palace would have been thrown out the window. Yet…

“Can you see out of those?” You ask cautiously as you stare at his dark glasses.

He chuckles at your straightforward question, but it doesn’t pass you when he doesn’t answer it. Instead, he asks his own. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

You don’t answer him and risk turning your head back in the direction you came from.

“A whooole lotta dangerous people out there y’know. Even within the castle walls.” He continues and takes a step closer to you. His voice carried a slight accent to it

“Who are you?” You reply, taking your own step back to maintain the distance, feeling the edge of the pavilion on your heels as you do so.

“Our, oh so gracious, King calls me the Corinthian. Sends me out when there’s dirty work to be done…” He looks at your figure slowly with a deep sigh.

“Am I… dirty work?” You ask. The tremor in your voice was hard to hide, at the very least you’d say it’s because of the cold air, but then you’d both know you’re lying.

The Corinthian chuckles again, this time open-mouth and towards the sky. “Ah, no, I can’t lay a finger on Your Majesty,” He sucks in his breath through his teeth.

His comment held a certain lilt of sarcasm in it, and it didn’t at all help you feel any more at ease in front of him. Saying he can’t doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to or could. He’s simply obligated by something that’s holding him back.

Something about this man was dangerous even though he desperately tried to hide it behind his aloof manners.

“It was lovely to meet you, Corinthian,” An obvious lie, a perfect farewell. “But, I’m afraid I must be going now.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Sweet dreams.”

You risk another look behind you to make sure to not fall off the pavilion, but when you turn back around, the Corinthian is gone just as fast as he appeared. With one last look around, you begin your way back to your room. Your walk slowly turned into a pace as your eyes darted across the dark garden, any shadow reminding you of him. Soon enough, you’re panting hard as you barrel through the gardens on pounding feet.

You look behind you as you begin to scale the ivy to your room and close the door with a slam, locking it, and pulling the curtains tight. The room turns pitch black and you light a candle to illuminate the space. That night, you slept with the candle going, something you hadn’t done since you were a child.

It felt childish, but the fear that followed you from that pavilion was anything but. You swallow your beating heart as you lay in your bed. Staring at the ceiling, you count the swirls once again. Tomorrow morning, you will ask Agnes for more Natterhorn milk to be added to your bath. Matthew will be outside your door should anything happen and he will greet you tomorrow morning just as he always has. When you close your eyes for the night, you dream of teeth.

♔♕

To others, he was the archbishop of the church, the one who speaks the will of Gods, the Reverend Destiny. But to Morpheus, he was simply Potmos, his eldest brother. Morpheus finds him within the rose maze of his garden, as he often does. Destiny rarely spends time in his church, except for special occasions, as he hears the voices of Gods no matter where he goes.

In the dead of night, Destiny wanders, the faint clinking of his chained book the only sound he produces. He leaves no footprint, and Morpehus only finds him when the smell of dust and books grows heavy.

“Potmos,” Morpheus seethes at him.

Slowly the archbishop turns, his hood covering his pale eyes. He doesn’t speak, waiting patiently for his younger brother to start speaking to him. Morpheus storms closer as the will-o-the-wisp follows close behind. As the sprites slowly come to recognize their master, they leave Morpheus’ side, and with more trills, they fly under Destiny’s cloak to hide.

“What games are you playing at? Will-o-the-wisps?” Morpheus accuses, adamantly pointing at Destiny’s feet.

Once again, Destiny stays quiet as he listens to his brother's rant. Anger was evident on his face, but if he was willing to dig deeper, even his blind eyes could see the small boy drowning in guilt. He feels the will-o-the-wisps dancing around under his robes, their fire tickling his exposed ankles. Will-o-the-wisps came to him soon after his powers did as a small gift from the Gods.

From that day on, he was no longer Potmos, crowned prince of the kingdom, but merely Archbishop Destiny. His job now was to make sure that the Gods’ voices were heard and their plans were placed into action. An idea all too novel to Morpheus, who seeks control over anything he could set his hands on.

“If the will-o-the-wisps led you to your fate, I am not one to deny their claims.”

“She is not my fate. I do not love her.” Morpheus can’t bring himself to even say your name.

“Perhaps not now, but it is fated. She was created for you, you are created for her. Sun and Moon, Light and Dark, Land and Sea. Balance in duality, my brother.” Comes Destiny’s answer.

“I do not love her. It is forced love. Fate cannot tell me who to love, I choose to love Calliope, I wish to have her.” Morpheus whispers the last few words, mainly to himself. Destiny, as always, hears them.

“Does she wish to have you?” Destiny asks instead.

The question strikes him hard, like a cold, hard slap of reality to the face. Ever since that conversation with her on his wedding night, Calliope had been the one to ignore him; not at all dissimilar to how he had been avoiding you.

Morpheus was unwilling to come to fruition with the truth and he turned to anger once more. Grabbing at Destiny’s book, he opens it and watches as the pages flip to the page he needs. He faces the book towards his older brother and points at the names written in golden ink. There were plenty of other words written on the page, about unification, about soulmates, but he looks past all of that.

“This,” He jabs his finger where he signs his name next to yours. “This is why I ‘love’ her. It is not real.”

“It is real. Open your eyes.”

Morpheus shuts the book with force, the slam echoing in the hedge maze. It only floats back gently into Destiny’s after he drops it. Morpheus storms off, arguing with Destiny is like arguing with a brick wall, except the brick wall is always right. He can’t deny it, his brother is the voice for forces even greater than him, but he can hate it.

“It is time you come to recognize her. Find her soon or let disaster run its course.” Destiny’s voice reaches him even after he leaves the maze, his voice carried by the wind and the fragrance of roses.

When he gets back to the castle, thinking at the very least that he may turn in for the night, the Corinthian is waiting for him. The conversation was brief, both men were tired and wanted to sleep, but Corinthian had important information he must let his king know.

He tells about one of Desire’s plans, to send a man named Rodrick Burgess after his sister. To manipulate the man into thinking his sister could bring back his dead son; it would be Rodrick’s greatest wish, his greatest desire.

The solution was easy, and with the promise of increased pay, Morpheus instructed Corinthian to deal with the man before he became a problem. The Corinthian only smiles, pay was not the reason he spied on the other kingdom, nor the reason why he was all too satisfied to end another’s life. He was great at it: the drama of killing another, the power he feels when he hears them beg beneath him. It is what he was made for.

That night, when Morpheus closes his eyes, he dreams of you. He watches as you’re taken by Rodrick Burgess, just as his sister might soon be. When he woke, the king didn’t dare to go back to sleep again.

♔♕

Destiny’s vague warning and his dream last night make him seek you out after his daily responsibilities the next day. He finds you after spotting Matthew standing in front of Eleanor’s old studio. Lucienne wasn’t in the library at the time, and Hob was off doing some new exercise cleansing ritual that he didn’t really bother to listen to.

“Your Majesty,” Matthew greets with a salute, his voice laced with something between panic and bewilderment.

“Is she in there?”

“Huh?” Matthew caws in confusion. Who?

“Is Y/N in there?” Oh…. Oh!

“Oh, yes. Her Majesty has been here since the morning.” Matthew replies with a smile, though his king couldn’t see it.

Morpheus motions Matthew to stand aside with a wave of his hand and he does. Jessamy follows Morpheus like a poisonous shadow and goes to stand next to him as well. She doesn’t bother to look at the knight, but still, he shakes with anxiety at her close proximity, or the fart he was suddenly holding in, he can’t tell at the moment.

Morpheus hesitates to open the door, in fact, he almost leaves, but the bracelet that rests on his left wrist constricts as if unhappy about his decisions. When he places his hand on the handle once more, it releases itself in content.

Slowly, he turns the handle, hoping to not make a noise and startle you. When he comes into the room, you don’t notice him, too entranced in the process of your painting. Your brush was held mid-stroke and you stayed still in thought.

From this angle, he could see the slope of your nose and the curve of your lips and eyelashes. In the late afternoon sun, he can see every detail of your face. Morpheus opens his mouth to greet you, but a glint is caught by the sun and he stops.

He watches with a frown as a tear slowly falls from your eye, it collects itself on the tip of your chin before falling and splattering itself on your painter’s palette, diluting the colors. Another tear forms in your unblinking eyes and joins the other. Your arms begin to shake as you let your tears collect and the sudden rush of emotions makes you lurch in pain. A whine tries to make its way out of your throat, but you clasp a firm hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

Your brush staggers across the canvas at the movement and you stare in shock at your ruined painting. You don’t know why, but you scream at the canvas, the defining streak runs across what would have been a perfectly adequate art piece. Everything seems to mess up in front of you, no matter how hard you try to be perfect.

“Stop,” Morpheus calls out to you at your outburst, but you’re too deep to hear him.

Perhaps it was all of the emotions you’ve kept bottled deep within yourself finally bursting. Your hands grip the frames of the painting as you scream again, tears now freely coming out in fat drops. Anger runs through your body and you let it.

This stupid painting!

You scream again and throw your palette across the room, the paints splattering across the wall like blood. Sobs rack through your body, shaking you to your core as you find your hands toppling over the canvas, watching as the wooden frame cracks after coming in contact with the floor.

“Y/N, stop!” You hear his voice closer to you this time, but the buzzing thoughts keep you occupied. You see your monsters seeping in through the cracks of the stone walls.

This stupid marriage!

It’s getting hard to breathe, your hands grabbing the scalp of your hair as you look around the studio. All of your past paintings look back at you and you feel their melancholy coming back at you. You’re storming towards them, to hit them, destroy them, anything to allow the anger to stay.

Anger would be better than feeling lonely anymore.

Arms wrap around your body from behind and hold you back as you begin to thrash in the hold. It was so constricting, your body heaves gulping breaths and your teeth buzzes at the brink of hyperventilation. Your fingers go numb, your mind blank and you scream again.

“I hate you!” You cry out in the embrace, squirming as you try to break free.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Morpheus whispers back as he tightens his grip on you. Your trashing doesn’t die down and he grunts as a particularly hard elbow hits him in the ribs.

“I hate you, I hate you!” You continue screaming.

“I’m sorry, please, stop. I’m sorry.” He holds on tight. An uncomfortable feeling creeps up his throat and he realizes he’s holding back his own tears. His knees buckle and he brings you with him, falling to the floor with you in his arms. He turns you towards him to hold you closer, to shield you from the outside world.

“I HATE YOU!” You sob one last time as the pent-up energy is finally spent, leaving you nothing more than a bag of flesh and bones in Morpheus’ arms. You slam a weak fist against his chest, throat screamed raw. “I hate you…”

Your body is racking with hiccups and remnant sobs as you feel the warmth of his embrace. You grab onto his jacket lapel, knuckles turning white and you realize that this is the first time someone has held you, touched you, embraced you since your wedding night. He still smells like earth and licorice.

The two of you stay like that for a while, and despite all circumstances, Morpheus can’t find the will to let you go. Your eyes and nose were cherry red from crying and the guilt once again starts to eat at him. This was his fault because he was too pretentious in what he thought he could control. He runs a delicate finger across the top of your forehead when your breathing evens, moving the hair away from your face.

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing Morpheus could think of saying.

Went fishing around in my greifcase for this one I think. Found the angst pretty deep in there

See you next time ( ` ᢍ ´ ) ᵐᵘʰᵃʰᵃ

♡ Yours, Layla

Tags: @dnarez @arunawayheart @acdassenza @ella33 @karma-is-a-god @bluespecs14

#destined dreams of love #the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #lord morpheus #arranged marriage #strangers to lovers #eventual smut

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thefallennightmare · 3 days

Note

I know that you usually do the headcannons on Monday's and you were thinking of moving it to Tuesday, but I was wondering if you would consider do a special Mother's Day one for this coming Sunday with Noah? I would love to see how Noah and Kenji would surprise Angel on Mother's Day.

@thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @lookwhatitcost @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @burning-outx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee

Please enjoy this special edition Mother's Day headcannon! It takes place in the Miracle Universe!

"SHH!" Kenji's loud voice came from down the hall. "You're going to wake momma up!!"

Noah chuckled. "Buddy, your mom slept through a fire. She can sleep through us making her breakfast."

"Wait," your four-year-old blinked. "Momma was in a fire?"

"Shit," Noah muttered under his breath while running his hand through his hair.

Kenji was too young for the story of how your crazy long lost brother tried to kill you in a fire. And how Noah walked through literal fire to save you.

"Sorry, it's an expression," Noah said while flipping the pancakes.

"What's an expression?" Kenji asked while taking a finger and dragging it through the bowl of pancake mix.

Even though he was four, your son Kenji was smarter than he looked. He did take after Noah after all.

You awoke in bed just in time to see Noah and Kenji walk into the room with a tray full of food, Kenji trying to carry the cup filled to the brim with orange juice.

Your heart lept in your throat when you noticed they were wearing matching Bad Omens sweaters and they were sporting the same hairstyle.

Noah had grown out his hair again, along with Kenji, and they both had it pulled back into buns.

"Happy mofers Day!" He yelled when he saw you were awake.

"Thank you my loves," you sleepily smiled at them.

Noah kissed you before setting out the large spread of food in front of you, both of your boys taking their fair share.

You didn't mind. You never did.

"So," Noah popped a grape in his mouth. "What do you want to do for your special day angel?"

"Honestly? This sounds perfect. Laying in bed with you two," you admitted.

The thought of going out in public with large crowds made you nervous, especially now.

Bad Omens were even bigger than they were before Kenji was born. Every time the three of you went out, someone recognized you guys and there had been a few times where you caught people taking pictures of Kenji.

Noah rubbed your back, working out the kinks of a restless night's sleep. "It's whatever you want, Y/N."

"Thank you," you rested your hand on his shoulder as his hand rubbed at your stomach; your ever-growing stomach.

Being nine months pregnant was another reason why you didn't want to go out.

It was a hot day in California and if there was a chance you could sit inside with air conditioning, you took it.

This pregnancy was a lot rougher than Kenji's. And with the previous miscarriages, you and Noah were taking a lot of extra precautions.

Your doctor ordered you on strict bed rest two months ago and Noah, who had tours and media planned, canceled it so he could stay home with you.

Something you tried to fight.

But even if Noah wasn't the one to cancel it, Matt would have because he didn't want anything to happen while they were on the road.

"So is my sister or broffer coming today?" Kenji asked once he finished scarfing down his pancakes.

Like he did every day since you told him six months ago.

"Soon bud," Noah ruffled his hair when Kenji squished himself between the two of you.

The three of you watched Bluey for a while until the baby in your womb began dancing around; right on your bladder.

You and Noah wanted to be surprised so didn't know the gender.

"I have to pee," you grunted while rolling out of bed.

Suddenly you stepped in something wet and when you glanced down, you felt your stomach drop.

"Did you spill something momma?" Kenji asked looking over the bed. "Momma peed!"

Noah immediately sat up in bed, his eyes locking on yours. "Did your-?"

You nodded. "My water just broke."

Less than thirty minutes later, Uncle Jesse and Uncle Jolly were at the house to watch Kenji while you and Noah rushed to the hospital.

You would have been perfectly fine with the gift of breakfast in bed for Mother's Day.

But eight hours later, as you lay in the hospital bed watching Noah do skin-to-skin with your daughter, you let out a lone tear.

"Best Mother's Day ever," you sighed.

Noah kissed your daughter's head. "I've got two angels now."

#tina talks #noah sebastian #bad omens #miracle noah sebastian #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian headcannons

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copperbadge · 4 hours

Text

Still badgering away at The Chicken Salad War and I did not realize how delighted I was going to be by introducing semi-masc nonbinary Jes Deimos to gallant butch Ylias Lazaar. I don't quite know where their subplot is going to go if anywhere but I feel like it may be somewhere awesome.

"Mr. Lazaar," said a familiar voice, and she turned to see LeFevre at her elbow, looking pleased. "A great success for you, I think."

"Seems to have gone all right, yeah," she agreed. "I heard you were going to crash."

"Alas, I could not -- I ended up invited," he said, grinning.

"And you brought guests?"

"Ah, I didn't mean to bring the royal family down on your head so soon," he said, leaning in. "They are terrible gossips; I should have remembered when I told King Theophile that he would likely share the information. Still, His Grace Gerald is pleased you use his oil and His Grace Michaelis enjoyed the matbucha greatly."

"And you? No constructive criticism?" she asked.

"Not tonight. I have never opened a restaurant myself, but I can understand this is your triumph! And in any case they are small quibbles. I will need to dine here more times before I speak," he replied. Someone tapped him on the arm, and he turned, then nodded at the person standing just behind him -- the one who'd been speaking with the old king a moment before. "Mr. Lazaar, may I present Ser Deimos, who came with His Grace. This is Mr. Lazaar, the chef of the hour. She/her," he added with a smile.

Ser Deimos looked amused. "They/them," they said, holding out a hand. "We're honored to be able to attend -- I don't think we realized when Gerald told us he was going that it was your soft open."

"It's my pleasure. Not everyone gets to feed the royal family on their first night," she replied, bowing over their hand. "And you're an ornament to any dining room."

Deimos looked delighted. "Thank you, that's kind of you to say. If I'd known the food was going to be this good I'd have scared up a party. I have a lot of friends in from out of country at the moment."

"Well, we open reservations tomorrow morning -- but for the royal family, I can set aside a table," Ylias replied.

"Don't, just yet," Deimos said, looking around. "I'm thinking more of a party. Could we rent the restaurant?"

"The whole restaurant?" Ylias asked, blinking. Simon looked smug.

"If not, that's fine -- we'll take the offer of a table -- but my son's graduating next week, and we were thinking of a group dinner the night before. Simon here is catering the night of," they added. "It'll be twenty or thirty people, and some of them have been doubtful that Fons-Askaz could live up to New York, foodwise. Yes, I felt the same," they added, catching Ylias's expression. "The only thing Fons-Askaz can't offer that New York can is the pizza, and only because our Eddie hasn't got the time to open a pizza restaurant."

"I hadn't..." Ylias fumbled slightly. "I'm sorry, we have a catering menu but I hadn't arranged any kind of contract for renting the space. It'd need to be a handshake deal and I couldn't quote a fee off the top of my head."

"Of course, I threw this at you with no warning. Here," they said, reaching into their pocket for a wallet and pulling out a card. "Email or phone is fine. If you can send me a proposal by Sunday, I can make a deposit on Monday. I'm comfortable with an informal deal as long as we have terms written out over email. If you don't feel ready, just let me know -- we'll definitely be back regardless."

"I'll be in touch," Ylias managed. Deimos gave her a bow and a smile, and retreated to their table.

[Then, later]

As they left Plate & Press, full of good food and possibly slightly tipsy, Jes leaned against Michaelis's arm and said, "Holy shit."

He gave them an amused look. "Yes, the food was very good. Nice space, too. I can't remember the last time I had such a pleasant evening out."

"Well, yeah, but I meant the chef," they said. He glanced at them, frowning.

"The Lazaar fellow?"

"Lady, I think. Uncertain, actually. Butch, possibly. She/her but Simon called her Mr. Lazaar."

"I noticed her, but I didn't see anything particularly unusual. Why?"

"I love you to bits but you're hopeless," they said. "You really didn't think she was hot?"

"I don't form opinions about sex appeal, generally," he reminded them. "Present company excepted."

"Well, she is hot in a very specific way -- like you, actually, sort of masculine and chivalrous -- and she called me an ornament to her dining room. I may have had a little moment."

He laughed. "Oh dear, am I going to have to fight a chef for your favors?"

"No, it's just nice to know I still got it."

He kissed the side of their head, affectionate. "You're an ornament wherever you go, but I'll make a note to remind you of it more often. Seems she's making a stir -- Simon likes her also, I think. Sometime soon we're going to have to kick Gregory and Eddie out of the residence for an evening, and I think I'll recommend that place for dinner. Gregory loves Tunisian food and I think Eddie would find a lot to interest him."

"You just want to spend a whole evening cuddling babies," Jes said.

"Joan and the twins all require the benefit of my wisdom on a regular basis," he said. There was a wolf-whistle directed at them from somewhere over their heads; some young wag, out on the second-floor balcony of a small hotel, clearly getting an early start on Pride. She waved a pink-and-blue flag in their direction.

"You can't have him!" Jes called.

"I was whistling at you!" the girl called back.

"I'll take him," her friend offered from the chair next to her.

Michaelis chuckled. "Drink some water, young ladies, or you'll be in no condition for the parade this weekend," he called.

"Vodka's sixty percent water!" someone on another balcony shouted, and someone else yelled for everyone to keep it down, and the discussion went on without them.

#shivadhverse

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tangylemonade · 2 days

Text

NO ONE ELSE

Jeonghan x afab reader

(The reader wears feminine clothes and is referred to as pretty etc.)

18+ MINORS DNI (istg 🫵🏾 ಠ_ಠ if I catch you)

Word count: 9.7k

꧁ ☂︎ (angst) & ⚠︎ (smut) w/ a pinch of ☁︎ (fluff) ꧂

WARNING: unprotected sex (don't forget the casing before you stuff your sausage), kidnapping, cursing, description of abuse, Jeonghan smokes, Jeonghan’s in a gang, mentions of injuries, reader has toxic parents. Please let me know if I missed anything.

P.s. I am aware that it’s no longer recommended to wrap fractured ribs but my goodness let me have this （•‿•）

You were never a one night stand kind of person.

It felt too… vulnerable. Too scary.

You didn’t know how to just give yourself to someone you don’t even know. To trust them with a raw view of you. To trust them with something so intimate.

It had been a long week. A long month. A long year.

You were beyond exhausted and quite honestly ready for a change.

Falling asleep filled with that expensive bottle of wine you never felt special enough to drink you woke up with a fire in your heart. A spark that needed kindling.

And now on this tepid Wednesday morning while you laid in bed long past your alarm you felt more energized than ever.

Getting up you showered before finally checking your phone. Your boss called and you had a few text messages from your coworkers.

You lied about being up all night with fever and called out sick. You’d never done anything of the sorts before so no one even questioned it. One coworker even offered to bring you soup which you politely declined.

You did a face mask that claimed to plump your skin and after that you put on a little makeup. Standing in a lingerie set you bought at some point for a boyfriend you never even slept with, you tried on your only pair of heels.

No one would see you like this tonight except yourself but you didn’t mind at all. It still made you feel sexy, something you hardly thought about yourself.

Digging in the depths of your closet you found that one dress you kept tucked away for special occasions. Your heart did a little flip thinking that maybe it didn’t fit anymore but thankfully with a little shimmy as you pulled up the form fitting dress it still fit like a glove.

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the way out the door you did a double take. The dress fit you perfectly, accentuating your every curve nicely. Your hair was done and all together with some makeup on you felt pretty. The prettiest you’d felt in a long long time.

You couldn’t help smiling.

Rasasy was a small restaurant that you’d often pass by but never went into. It always looked lovely and quaint and the scent would carry through the street making you hungry on your way home.

It was quiet with a few people enjoying their dinners while chatting away happily with their partners.

The food took its time coming as it was cooked upon order but it was completely worth it.

Taking another bite you looked around taking in the atmosphere. Soft piano music was playing quietly and the booth you were sitting in was warm and cozy.

You found yourself looking to see if you were the only person eating alone. In a beat your eyes locked with a man who must’ve been the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. Sitting alone at the table to your right he took a sip of his red wine before giving you a disarming smile.

Without too much unnecessary thought you smiled at him and went back to your meal with your heart a flutter.

When you were finished you called the waitress to ask for the check. While you waited you glanced over at the beautiful man’s table but he was gone.

Your heart sank a bit and you shook your head laughing at yourself. What would you even say anyway?

“The bill was already paid for.” The waitress said with a smile.

“Paid for? Why? By who?” you said.

Somehow you already knew.

“The gentleman at table 3. He requested that you’d be given this note as well.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, feeling a little giddy.

The waiter simply smiled with a knowing twinkle in her eyes before heading away.

You waited until you got in your car, buckled in, started it, and took a deep breath before mustering the courage to unfold the note and read it.

Hello gorgeous

I didn't want to bother you because you looked so peaceful. I’d love to join you next time.

Jeonghan

+82-3-067-1005

The handwriting was a little sloppy yet had a unique elegance to it.

As you moved the paper you caught a whiff of a heavenly scent. Was that how he smelt?

Something regal…like an aromatic green tea and…. cigarettes. Not the cheap kind, the expensive ones that smelled sweet and warm.

“Oh who am I kidding.” You said to yourself with a wistful sigh before tucking the note into your bag. You often talked to yourself aloud to sort your thoughts.

“The lighting at the restaurant was very dim and romantic. Maybe he’s just drunk and lonely. Maybe he’s just playing a game. Maybe he has fun every night and I seemed like an easy target because I was alone and looked pitiful.”

But then a different thought popped into your head.

It came as a whisper.

‘Maybe… just maybe he wants to get to know me.’

The little thought echoed through your head silencing the others while turning your face vibrant with warmth.

Tomorrow. You’d call tomorrow.

☾

Pacing back and forth you couldn’t decide when the moment was right.

What if he thinks you’re a freak for calling so early? Maybe you should wait another day so you don’t seem desperate. Maybe you should’ve called last night and he doesn't even remember you. Maybe you could just text him? Maybe…

You hit call and squeezed your eyes shut while the phone rung.

“Hello?”

A voice filled your ear, soft and smooth

“Oh sorry Hi! Uhm this is Y/N. From last night. You gave me your number…” you heard yourself starting to ramble and wanted to die.

“Wow! I didn’t think you’d call.”

Your face fell in horror.

“Oh my I’m so sorry I-“

“I’m happy you did. I was sure you thought I was a weirdo or something. I felt so stupid but I figured you were worth the try.”

Your words caught in your throat while you tried to process everything.

“Hello? Are you still there?” He asked tentatively over the line.

“Yeah.”

Your words came out in a bit of a whisper.

“Perfect! So… do you want to get coffee or…”

“Yeah. Oh uhm yeah coffee would be- I could always drink coffee.”

“Are you busy? We could meet up today?”

“No, I'm off. How about Colvers? It’s new but I heard they make good coffee and the sandwiches aren’t half bad.”

“That sounds great! How does 2:30 sound?”

“Great!”

You caught yourself sounding a little too enthusiastic and tried to tone it down. “So.. I’ll uhm see you there?”

“See you.” He said with a light chuckle before hanging up.

A date. You have a date. A beautiful, gorgeous date.

“I’m gonna vomit!” you declared, collapsing on your bed with a groan.

You laid there for a little bit playing in your hair and suddenly giggling like a little school girl before hopping up and heading to the shower. You hummed the whole way through as you dolled yourself up and sorted through your things in an attempt to find the best and prettiest casual clothing you owned.

Checking the time you did your final touches before rushing out the door in fear of being late even though you were leaving early.

You arrived 30 minutes early and thanked god for your insight because it was a little busy but you still managed to find a good table.

You ordered their signature sandwich as a late breakfast, hoping you could finish it before he got there.

The sandwich took a little while to come but god was it worth it. You chewed with your eyes closed, savoring the warm and spicy goodness.

“Can I have a bite?”

You nearly choked as your eyes flew open at the sound of a smooth and sultry voice.

You quickly chewed and swallowed, taking a swig of your water. Your eyes pricked with tears as you forced the not fully masticated bite down.

“Have you considered filming a commercial? The way you’re eating makes that look really good.” He said with a smile that made you feel a little (a lot) hot around the collar.

“Sorry. I skipped breakfast.” You sort of mumbled as you self-consciously set your sandwich on your plate. “I don't drink coffee well on an empty stomach so I figured I’d eat before you got here.”

“Same. Can I have a bite?”

You blinked at him. “A bite?”

“Can’t I?” He did a head tilt that would’ve seemed innocent if not for that sparkle in his dark brown eyes.

You nodded slowly and slid the plate towards him with a hand that was now shaking a bit.

He picked up the sandwich, turning it around and looking at it before taking a bite right where you had.

Your mouth watered as you watched him chew.

Fighting yourself to look back at his eyes you saw something mischievous reflecting back at you that sent your skin fluttering with goosebumps.

He chewed slowly before swallowing and swiping the corner of his lips with his thumb.

“This really is good.”

“Yeah uhm.. do you want to order one…” you said, raising your hand to call the waiter.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it down to the table with a smile.

“Nah it’s okay. I’ll just steal more of yours, only if you don’t mind of course.”

He looked at you waiting for a response.

“Oh I don’t mind.” You said, not entirely sure why it didn’t bother you when you weren’t normally a big sharer. That was one of the reasons you were so lonely. It feels hard to give these days.

The waiter brought over an icy glass, setting it in front of Jeonghan and physically cutting the tension that was building as you watched him take another bite.

He sipped the cold glass of tea, his pink lips wrapping around the straw.

“Oh that looked good! What is it?” You asked as you picked up the sandwich and took a bite, your bite overlapping with his. You internally rolled your eyes as your heart did a little skip. What were you, in grade school?

But why did the sandwich taste even better this time?

“Want to try?”

“What is it?”

“Iced green tea honey and no cream. It’s good.” He said while pushing the glass towards you.

“Ohh sounds good.”

You weren’t sure if it really did sound good or if the thought of wrapping your own lips around his straw was clouding your common sense.

What in the world was this man doing to your dormant and CLEARLY desperate body?

You hesitated for a moment, looking up at him and catching his gaze again.

Without a second thought you put your lips around his straw taking a quick sip, the cool drink washing through your now hot body.

Jeonghan watched you for your reaction and you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes flicker to your pursed lips.

“Oh it is good. Maybe I should order that instead of a coffee.” You said. The tea was not too sweet and pleasantly refreshing.

“I’m telling you. You have a future in advertising.” He said with a shake of his head and a dangerous smile. So charming it disarmed you and suddenly you were smiling too.

If you from a week ago saw you now she would have a heart attack.

You didn’t end up ordering your own tea. You shared his drink with him leaning in to take sips and exchange wistful conversation.

Here you were sitting with a complete stranger sharing spit before you even learned each other's last names.

☾

“So tell me more about yourself? What do you do for work?” He asked, walking alongside you, his hand gently brushing into yours as you stepped in sync.

It was a beautiful day and Jeonghan had suggested a park date. You went on a couple dates before but you always picked activities. Not as much talking time as there was physical bonding like pottery classes and movies. You two finished a quick picnic of sandwiches before going for the walk. It felt nice to talk with him in such a relaxed way as you two strolled along the sunny path.

“I work in banking.” You said with shrug

“Ohhh sounds fun.” He teased.

You laughed. “Ehh. It’s not bad and it pays well enough. What about you?”

You did a quick intake of the man walking beside you.

His shoulder length black hair was silky and smelled of a soft warm scent every time he turned his head to talk to you.

His slender stature was fitted in crisp yet simple black jeans and tee that you knew could only be from an expensive store.

“Family business. Nothing exciting like banking but hey.” He said with a chuckle.

“That’s nice! It's just me here so it can get pretty lonely.”

“Any friends?”

You shrugged and let out a sigh before awkwardly laughy “Do you count?”

Jeonghan playfully knocked his shoulder into yours. “Absolutely I do.”

You stopped and looked at him, smiling softly before shaking your head.

“What?” He said with his signature head tilt.

“What planet are you from Yoon Jeonghan?”

He laughed and turned his body fully towards you, leaning against a nearby tree. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just such…a- a.”

“Weirdo?”

You laughed. “What? No. You’re such a treat.”

His smile dropped a bit before quickly lifting into a smirk. You saw a flicker of something indistinguishable in his eyes that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Sorry. It’s just I- I’ve sortve been living in this weird little me bubble and the one day I suddenly decided to pop it you showed. It felt like fate… I mean you’re just so lovely…”

Your voice trailed off. Your face was burning bright as Jeonghan's eyes watched you intently.

The breeze flittered his hair into his face as if it too couldn’t resist the desire to caress him.

“You’re trouble aren’t you?” He asked in an almost whisper.

“What? Me? Hardly. Besides, I’m not the one giving my phone number on flirty notes to strangers.” You smiled, playfully poked his arm as you spoke.

“Well a beauty like you is non-ignorable. I had no choice.”

“No choice huh.” You continued to quip in an attempt to distract your body from its desire to overheat in Jeonghan's intoxicating presence.

“What? Do you just hit on every pretty girl you see?”

He held your hand that you hadn't realized was still resting on his arm and pulled you closer to him.

His gaze was so intense you thought you might combust on sight.

The sun was setting,leaving a heavenly glow against his smooth gorgeous skin.

You leaned in before he did your lips touching his before you pulled back in shock.

“Oh…I-“

His right hand still held yours while his other pulled you even closer to his invitingly warm chest, cutting off your stumbling words. He let go of your hand to cradle your face as he gazed at you for a moment before leaning in. His lips devoured yours as the kiss quickly deepened, filling you with ecstasy.

Eventually you both had to take a moment to breathe, his soft breath tickling your nose as he rested his forehead to yours.

You lifted your hand to his cheek while your other hand's fingers laced through the silky hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him in for another delicious taste.

His kisses spread heat through your body leaving you feeling dizzy and thoughtless.

His scent was intoxicating. Green tea and cigarettes mixing with a soft scent you now knew to be him.

The tickle of his tongue on your lips was a magic spell telling you body you open to him and you complied. You pressed into him craving more as his nimble fingers pushed patterns into your skin like a sinful tattoo.

“Wow.” You whispered breathlessly.

He laughed. “I agree.”

Jeonghan looked up at the dimming sky.

“When did it get so late?” He said, concern evident in his voice. “ Let me drive you home.”

“What about my car then? I’ll text you when I get home, okay?” You were still feeling loopy off of him and couldn’t stop smiling.

“Then let me walk you to your car.”

You nodded, grabbing his hand and walking alongside him with that goofy smile still plastered on your face.

☾

Jeonghan started texting you good morning messages that had you feeling all giddy throughout the day. You found yourself smiling so much your coworker giggled and whispered to you “Someone got laid huh?”

“Oh stop.” You said swatting her away from you as you blushed thinking about how good Jeonghan probably could make you feel if his kiss had you this buzzed.

A couple weeks blew by and you talked nearly every day, both of you being too busy to meet up.

Holding your takeout in one hand and your bag and keys in the other you hummed while you tried to maneuver the right key into your hand.

Suddenly your skin alerted with goosebumps and you felt uneasy. You turned around but when you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary you quickly opened your door and ran inside. You locked both locks while you tried to steady your pounding heart. Just then your phone rang causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

You checked the caller ID. Why was Jeonghan calling so late? He never called at this time.

“Oh my! Jeonghan! Why the sudden call?” You said through the line.

“Are you okay?” He said quickly, his voice sounding anxious and low.

“Yeah I’m okay. I just got home.”

“Can I see you?”

“Now!?”

“Is that okay?”

“Well…I just got dinner…”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to inconvenience you. Just…you’re okay right?”

“Yeah I’m okay. Why? What’s going on?” You asked, your voice sounded as uneasy as you were feeling again.

“No reason. I’ll leave you to your dinner-“

“No! I mean- uhm…come over.”

“Are you sure?”

He sounded so exhausted and it made your heart pang.

“Of course. I’ll text you my address.”

It was more than just wanting to see him, you were still feeling uncomfortably scared and you couldn’t shake the uneasiness despite telling yourself that you were just being silly. You wanted Jeonghan to hold you and make everything okay.

You paced back and forth in your kitchen until you heard the *pling* *pling* of your doorbell. You rushed to check through the peephole, the pit in your stomach beginning to unknot at the sight of the beloved man standing outside, his hair blowing in the night air, obscured by the night.

You quickly opened the door with a smile on your face.

“Come in, it's freezing out.” You said pulling him in by his hand.

He kicked off his shoes hurriedly as you pulled him all the way into your kitchen and sat him down in a chair.

“Sit here. Did you eat dinner? I got takeout. It’s nothing fancy but I was just about to eat. It’s probably cold now so I’m just gonna heat it up except my microwave is broken and so I have to use a pan which actually is better because then it tastes…”

You had your back to him while you rambled and you suddenly felt his slender arms wrap around you, cutting your words short as they fell back down your throat, turning into butterflies in your stomach.

He rested his head on your shoulder and let out a sigh that sounded like he had the weight of the world crushing him.

“Jeonghan?” You held his hand and tried to turn around but he gently held you still.

Looking down you noticed his knuckles. They were bruised and bloodied!

“Are you okay?” You asked, worry flipping your heart and sending it pounding against your rib cage.

You grabbed his arm and this time he didn’t resist as you lifted it, turning toward him.

A gasp fell from your lips at the sight of his beautiful face…battered and bruised. He licked his busted, swollen lip and smiled at you, wincing a bit from the pain.

“Oh my god Jeonghan what happened!” Your hands flew up to his face but only hovered, scared to hurt him any more. Jeonghan grabbed your hands, pulling them close and resting them on his heart. You could feel the thumping beneath your shaking hands.

“Family troubles.” He said with a crooked smile.

You sat him back down at your table before quickly leaving to grab your first aid kit.

Opening the box quickly you hesitated as you looked at the over supplied kit your coworker bought you as a housewarming gift unsure what to even use.

“An ice pack would be great.” He said, helping you along with a humorous lit to his voice that didn’t fit the situation.

“Right, sorry.”

You quickly rushed to your freezer and grabbed your ice pouch you bought at some point for your headaches and quickly tossed it to the back of your freezer when you realized it was of no help.

Gently you brought it to his cheek, pressing it slowly to gauge his pain.

“Sorry.” You said pulling back when he winced. “Does that hurt too much?”

“Not when you do it.”

He smiled again, gently holding on to your wrist.

“Sorry. You’ll have to hold this while I clean your lip.”

He took the ice pack, his warm fingers playing with your now cold ones.

Grabbing ointment you put some on a cotton swab before leaning over and dabbing it gently on his pretty lips.

You looked up at Jeonghan, your eyes meeting his as they looked down at you.

In an attempt to cool your anxious sweats as you got the first aid kit you had unbuttoned a few buttons of your blouse. Right now he had a clean view down your shirt and into your barely there bralet that you wore on long days because bras drove you crazy and this one was comfortable. Comfortable and basically see through.

You didn’t mind at all and made no effort to move as you continued tending to his cuts.

“Anything else?” So asked softly.

You noticed a bruise peaking through the black silk of his shirt.

Jeonghan stared at you for a moment thinking through his next course of action. With a pensive expression he unbuttoned his shirt all the way, revealing litters of purple marks all over his upper torso.

“Oh m- Jeonghan, I'm not a doctor! You need to go to the hospital.” You felt tears stinging your eyes as the night's emotions already began to bubble over.

“No need. Nothing's broken. I’ll be fine.” He held your hand as he spoke, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You felt his warm body shiver as you delicately traced the injuries on his skin with cool fingers. Jeonghan tentatively rested his hand on your hips.

“I feel better already.” Jeonghan whispered.

His low voice sent tingles through every fiber of your essence.

“Jeonghan. Tell me what happened. Please.”

His hands rushed to your face, cradling it and catching your falling tears with his thumb.

“There are things that need to be done. When they don’t get them done it’s only natural to pay the price.”

“What does that mean Jeonghan?” Frustration twisted with worry in your voice. “Do you need help?”

He shook his head.

“It means that I will do everything within my power to keep you safe.”

“Jeonghan…You’re scaring me.”

“It’s gonna be okay y/n.”

He sweetly gazed up at you, stroking your cheek. You found yourself leaning closer, seeking the warmth and comfort you knew he could give you.

Your lips touched, not as a kiss but rather to simply feel each other, the emotions passing between you stronger than words could understand.

With a tilt of Jeoghans chin he kissed you softly at first against your trembling lips. His hands firmly pulled you closer, your body slotting between his legs as he deepened the kiss. Your tongue caressed his bottom lip and you tasted his blood in your mouth as he opened himself to you desperately.

His fingers hungrily wandered, leaving fire in their path.

Immediately undoing your buttons you slid your shirt off your shoulders, dropping it on the floor beside Jeoghans.

His hands squeezed your thighs encouraging you to straddle him.

“Are you..” you could barely speak as Jeonghan continued kissing you. “…sure it won’t…mhhh…hurt?

His only response was a moan against your lips before he pulled you into his lap, putting an end to your hesitation. Feeling worrisome about touching his injured body you laced your fingers through his hair.

Your hips took the lead pressing against the hardness that was growing in his slacks. He groaned into your neck where he had now begun to kiss and suck the sensitive skin, a moan vibrating against your throat.

Jeoghan placed your hands against his chest, letting you know that it was okay to touch him.

Your skirt was now lifted and sitting at your hips leaving only the thin barrier of your underwear now dampened with your arousal. Sliding down your bralette he littered your breast with licks and kisses.

Undoing the button of his pants your shaky hands struggled with the zipper before finally pulling his cock from the dreadfully difficult blockade that was his clothing.

“Fuck…” he breathed against your skin as you gently circled his tip, collecting the percum and stroking down his length.

His hands shot down to your aching core seeking to return the favor. He played with your swollen bud over damp underwear earning moans from you that had his cock twitching in your grasp. He slid your panties aside, slowly slipping a finger into you.

Jeonghans slender fingers were as nimble and graceful as they looked and you wondered if you would last much longer.

He pulled his fingers from inside leaving you aching with protest before you felt the tease of his tip to your dripping pussy lips. Standing to make it easier you watched as he guided his pretty pink cock into you, his length slowly disappearing until you were back flush against his lap.

With how long it had been since your last relation combined with his delicious size, you weren’t surprised by the pain of the stretch. Your eyebrows furrowed as you adjusted. Jeonghan kissed the corner of your lips, his hands massaging your hips while you breathed through the moment. Despite the twitch of his cock which you felt against your sensitive walls Jeonghan didn’t move, allowing you to take the lead.

He buried his face into your breasts, a string of swear words on his breath as your tight walls squeezed his throbbing cock.

When you began to rock he had to fight to steady his breathing before he blew it right then and there.

It truly had been too long for you. It didn’t take much more of his cock pressing all the right spaces in you before an orgasm came ripping through your body. Jeonghan struggled to focus as he fought through the euphoric feeling of your fluttering pussy so that he could watch the beautiful scene that was you unraveling against him.

The beauty of your flushed face, kiss swollen lips, dazed eyes, and your softly furrowed brows had Jeonghan seeing stars.

You rested your head on his shoulder as you caught your breath.

Jeonghan waited until your heart stopped pounding against him before he secured your hips in his hands and began lifting into you.

Shivers flittered down Jeonghan's spin as you moaned loud and clear in his ear.

Your feeling of overstimulation washed into the building of pleasure once again.

His hips began to stutter as he got closer to his release. You moved along with him and it wasn’t long before your walls were squeezing and pulsing around him again, this time pulling his orgasm into you in hot ropes. He rutted inside a few more times before wrapping his arms around your body and holding you close. You both began to settle from your high, the reality of the moments setting in.

Jeoghan was in your kitchen half naked and covered in bruises with his cock buried inside of you.

You must be going crazy because right now as you rested in his arms you felt safer than ever.

☾

You woke up to an empty bed despite falling asleep in Jeonghan's arms. The memory of you guys pulling off the rest of your clothes and stumbling to bed played through your mind.

Your stomach growled, reminding you that you skipped dinner.

You rolled over to see a note where Jeonghan had been.

Sorry I had a few things to handle.

There’s breakfast on the table.

I hope I didn’t make you late for work ^_^

You smiled not even caring that you were absolutely going to be late.

The bathroom was still a bit fogged over when you went in.

“I should’ve woken up earlier and showered with him.” You said to yourself regretfully, quickly showering so you could enjoy the breakfast he left to you. The towel he used was slightly damp and it smelled like him. You used it to dry off even though you had more than one and hurriedly lotioned and got dressed.

Jeonghan had left you a coffee that was still warm and a breakfast sandwich from Clovers. You thought your face would break from how much you were smiling but you couldn’t help that soaring feeling on your heart as you grabbed the food and headed out the door.

☾

The hairs on your neck stood up tall as you walked toward your house. It was the same stressed and scared feeling you felt the other night. The streets were being cleaned in the morning so you had to park farther down. You walked quickly as nerves began to set in halfway home. Glancing behind you you saw nothing but when you turned back around you crashed into a big tall man. You were unable to see his face before someone grabbed you from behind, holding a damp cloth over your nose until everything started to blur. You fought and fought with all your fading might, dropping your things on the ground before your body fell numb and everything went black.

Awakening to the ringing sound in your ears you squeezed your eyes tighter to gather your bearings. Examining yourself you found a bandage wrapped around your wrists and chest. It hurt as you breathed in. Your attempt to sit up was cut short by your body collapsing back on the bed, pain shooting throughout and settling into your head as a heinous migraine.

Cautious breaths were your anchor as you slowly looked around the dark room. Adjusting to the dark you noticed the faint orange glow of a cigarette burning by the window.

Fear ripped through your heart as every alarm fired off in your head.

You weren’t alone.

Using all of your strength you pushed your back against the headboard as you felt around for anything that could be used as a weapon.a gentle breeze for the open window blew through, bringing a family scent to greet your nose.

“J-Jeonghan?” Fear turned into confusion and then terror.

“You’re awake?” His voice came, soft and warm like a blanket covering you.

He stood up and stepped closer to you revealing the slouch of his tired frame. Bathed in blue light you could see fresh cuts and bruises on his face.

“Here, drink this.” He said offering you a water bottle.

You only just noticed how thirsty you were but you shook your head and pushed your body further away from him.

“Please, you must be thirsty. It’s unopened.” He said, switching on nightstand light and showing you the sealed bottle.

You took a moment to mull it over before tentatively accepting the drink. Your action was cut short as pain shot through, forcing you to wrap your arms around yourself.

Jeonghan rushed beside you, his hands instantly resting on your arms as his concerned eye scanned your body. Save for the bandages around your chest and ribs your upper torso was bare, revealing the dark brushing that littered your arms and neck.

“Let me help you.”

Jeaoghan opened the bottle and brought it to your lips. Without hesitation you parted your lips allowing him to pour a few sips into your mouth. Your throat rejoiced at the relief while your stomach made you aware of its hollowness with a growl.

Jeonghan gazed down at you in his close proximity.

“What's going on?” You shakily whisper to him. “Everything hurts so…ugh…so much.”

A frown wrinkled Jeonghan’s beautiful face at your words and he looked away in shame.

“…Jeonghan?”

“You're safe. Rest here for a few days and then I’ll relocate you somewhere more comfortable. Kim

will come later tonight.”

You blinked at him, no sound able to leave your mouth as you tried to process the moment.

With that Jeonghan stood up, grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

“Wait! Where are you going?” You asked, panic and distress filling you at the thought of him leaving you here alone.

“Don't leave me.” Your voice broke and you saw him hesitate, his hand frozen on the lock.

“Kim will be here soon.” He said quickly before slipping out, shutting the door airily behind him.

About an hour passed before a small slender woman possibly in her early 40s walked in with a suitcase in tow behind her

“Hello.”

Her voice paired with her warm motherly smile felt gentle and sweet.

“You’re already looking better!”

She switched on the light room finally allowing you a clear view of the high end hotel room you apparently were staying in.

Kim went to the bathroom and came back with a basin of water.

“May I?” She asked, placing the bowl on the nightstand and ringing out the cloth.

You nodded and she began by wiping your face and then your hands. It felt soothing and the tension you felt from a stranger being in your presence began to fade.

“What’s goin-“

Kim shook her head, cutting you off without a word.

You looked at her with pleading eyes and her eyebrows tensed.

“Listen here now darling, it probably won’t make much sense but you helped save a lot of lives. A lot of innocent women and children.”

She looked at you with a soft smile. “The work that the Yoon family does isn’t very pretty and sometimes it’s down right awful. But there are people out there who are worse. And hopefully this group of worse people won’t be able to hurt any more good people.”

You were angry now. “That’s nice and all Kim but that doesn’t explain anything.” You frowned, speaking through gritted teeth as your brain struggled to sort things that just weren’t making sense.

Your heart was pounding, your ears ringing, and you were begging to feel nauseous.

“Come on doll, let’s get you washed up.

You wanted to be noncompliant but unfortunately you could really use a shower and you didn’t think you had the strength to get to the bathroom on your own.

You simply grumbled a thank you as Kim helped you to the shower and turned on the water for you. You didn't even mind when she helped you out of your clothes. She left you alone after that, only popping in to give you some toiletries and clothing.

You sunk to the floor of the tub in tears as your world crashed around you not even caring that your sobs were louder than the patter of the water against you.

You woke up to the shuffling sound of footsteps around you due to Kim doing some tidying in the room. There was a bowl of savory smelling porridge steaming on the nightstand.

“Good! You're up!” Kim said cheerfully, making her way over to you.

You need to get something in that stomach of yours.

Kim had helped you with your hair last night by drying and plaiting it for you. You remembered Kim’s gentle hands tangling through your hair while you numbly sat on the cold floor. She had to practically drag you to bed but the moment your head hit the pillow you were out.

You pulled the covers around you. You were still naked because you were too sore last night to lift your arms. There was a t-shirt and a pair of underwear on the bed for you and you quickly pulled them on. Kim stirred the porridge and brought the spoon to her mouth checking the temperature as if you were a baby.

She set the tray down in front of you and placed the spoon in the bowl.

“Eat up. Please. You need your strength to heal.”

•••

They had you for two nights… maybe even three.

You were brought to a gaudy bedroom littered with alcohol bottles in every corner.. You were left there alone for a few hours before a woman, possibly in her late twenties, showed up.

She was concerningly skinny with a face that was pretty despite the bags under her eyes and the obvious drug use that bruised her body.

She took a moment to circle the pole you were chained to before scoffing.

“You’re not even that pretty.” She grumbled before landing a blow to your stomach, knocking the air from your lungs.

She would come in periodically to throw insults at you and hit you before eventually falling asleep on the bed. She was always inebriated, her words slurring together as she hissed at you with hot breath that reeked of liquor.

On the last night you heard the commotion of guns and yelling. She heard it as well and rage boiled in her eyes as she screamed and hit you harder than before. You felt the sickening crack of your ribs as you gasped for air and tried to stay awake.

When everything stopped you thought maybe you had died.

But you felt the warmth of a body, the familiar scent of green tea and cigarettes filling your bloodied nose. Once the chains were removed you fell into your savior's arms, unable to stand on your own.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”

•••

You finish the porridge and curl up in bed feeling exhausted even though you hadn't moved an inch. You turned your face into the pillow but you were too tired to even cry.

When you woke up this time it was dark out. Moonlight danced through the room caressing your bare skin. Your skin flitted with goose bumps and you shot up scanning the room, your eyes landing in the figure leaning against the windowsill.

You pulled yourself up and leaned against the headboard so you could face him while you spoke.

“I want to go home.” You said, your voice sounding shakier than you’d hoped.

Jeonghan sighed and walked towards the bed, sitting at the foot of it.

“It’s not safe.”

“And why is that Jeonghan?” This time your voice sounded just as venimos as you wanted it to, the rage finally stronger than your fear.

“You’ll need to lay low for a while until things calm down.” His eyes intently watched your glaring ones as he spoke.

“You won’t be able to go back to your job so I’ll help you find something new and until then your needs will be taken care of.”

You looked away first, cursing yourself for the way your body still fluttered under his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” You said as you fiddled with the blanket, rage subsiding and nervousness taking over again.

Jeonghan nodded.

“Why me? Did you really even…”

By now you had figured that it was all some twisted game that only you were missing the rules to. That you were just…bait?

He sighed again and rubbed his face tiredly before answering.

“You seemed…lonely. Like no one would notice if you went missing. You’re also very pretty.” He listed the reasons matter factly as if it was as casual as telling you the weather.

You wanted to protest but it was true.

Your family wasn’t just physically far away.

Your relationship with your mother and father became strained when you told them you didn’t want to keep sending money just for your little brother's addiction. They claimed it was for his rehab but he never went. Once they found his body you knew it was over. They blamed you and it was easier to leave entirely than deal with their constant bilgerance. When your job had a transfer available you didn’t hesitate. Sometimes at night you were haunted by the anger in your mothers eyes. To her, you were a witch who had killed her beloved son with your greed.

“That night. Why- why did you come to me? If I was just…if it was just…”

You couldn’t go on as the tears swallowed your words.

“I had no choice.” Jeonghan said, his voice firm and serious.

You looked back at him with furious eyes.

“Listen.” He continued. “ what happened- you didn’t deserve to get wrapped up in this. I’m sorry. Once you became- I wanted to find another way.”

Emotions stormed through you, leaving you feeling confused and tired. Jeonghan's words offered little clarity, only giving way to more questions.

As Jeonghan watched your shaking eyes he wondered.

At what point did everything start feeling…real? At what point did he allow such a distraction to pull him away. It was never meant to be this way…and yet he found himself only thinking about you.

“What now?” You said, suddenly pulling Jeonghan from his thoughts. Your voice was soft against his tired mind.

“Safe house. Just for a moment while things settle. There’s still some cleaning up to do.”

You sighed and buried your face into the blanket.

A moment passed before Jeonghan spoke again.

“I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you. And that's a promise.”

For a reason only god knew, Jeonghan's voice still felt like a warm hug swaddling you tightly.

“Fuck. You.”

Your voice was muffled in the blanket but his sigh told you he heard you loud and clear.

That was the last bit of fight you had left. You already knew that no matter how messed up the situation was, you believed his every word.

☾

The next morning you left for the safe house. The drive was long and the roads were whindy and yet you still found yourself napping in the back seat while Jeonghan silently drove.

Jeonghan found himself peaking in the rear view mirror often to catch a glimpse of your peaceful face.

‘There’s a special place in hell for people like me.’ He thought to himself.

Not wanting to wake you or have you wake up alone, Jeonghan waited in the car despite having arrived 2 hours earlier.

Your eyelids fluttered open as the sun beamed through the open windows. Jeonghan was still in the driver's seat quietly speaking on the phone. His eyes shot to the rearview and he gave you a smile. Unfortunately it was just as charming as ever.

“Yeah I’ll call you back.” He said into the phone and hanging up before getting out of the car and opening the door for you.

You nearly tripped on your way out the car as you took in the view around you. The gorgeously quaint cottage house was surrounded by miles of luscious land. There were chickens clucking around and to your far left there was a horse grazing. It was beyond beautiful. It was dream-esque and super… secluded?

“Did you bring me here to kill me?” You asked seriously.

He chuckled butterflies straight into your stomach and shook his head.

“If I wanted you dead, why would I bring you here? Why not just leave you with Stella?

All you could do was shrug.

“Stella? So that is the person I need to thank for the bruises.” You said with a forced laugh.

Jeonghan's lips tightened into a thin line, a flicker of anger crossing his elegant features at the sound of Stella's nasty name on your pretty lips. "Don’t concern yourself with that" he muttered, his voice dressed in bitterness and disgust. "She's...been dealt with."

With that he walked away, closing the conversation.

He opened the door for you, letting you walk in first before following and shutting the door behind you two. The house was lit beautifully golden from the sunset glow.

You turned to him with your eyebrows furrowed.

"Dealt with?"

“The mouse pays for the cheese with it’s life.” He said with a nonchalant shrug as he walked to the kitchen

“Jeonghan!”

You raised your voice and crossed your arms feeling a bit like an indignant child.

“Hmm?” Jeonghan hummed back without even so much as looking at you. He was shuffling through the refrigerator.

“Did you use me as bait in some sort of twisted lovers spat?” You felt your blood boiling as your pulse quickened.

“Hardly.” Jeonghan said, his haphazard attitude now starting to tick you off.

“I’m already trapped in the middle of nowhere with you. The least you can do is look at me and give me a proper explanation.”

“Look.” He said suddenly slamming the refrigerator closed, walking towards you until he was so close you had to take a step back.

“Stella was never my lover or anything like that. She was some crazy bitch who we did trade with. The skank was fucking obsessed with me, always making advances. Anyway she was running some druggie club that took part in human trafficking and shit.”

He walked back to the kitchen now, angrily pulling things from the refrigerator while he spoke. You pulled yourself onto one of the counters and listened.

“You see it’s pretty well know that the Yoons don’t fuck with that kind of shit so we were obviously gonna be a problem. I guess her and a few other wannabes got together with a grand idea and put a hit on my family. To try and scare us off I suppose. We lost good men that night.”

He paused for a moment, his expression suddenly somber but he shook it off and continued.

“That was enough incentive to put an end to her shit but that rat was hard to find. Except I would get letters from her, sometimes super detailed with mentions of things that happened to me the night before. I had a little fun at Rosie’s House and the girl showed up the next day in bad shape. Told me I wasn’t welcome back anymore. That's when we got an idea.”

He stopped tossing out the old food from the refrigerator and turned to you before leaning against the counter, his arms on either side of your body.

Your breath hitch but you did your best to act unaffected by him.

“When I saw you at that restaurant I knew it would drive her crazy. You were absolutely stunning.” His eyes flickered across your body and your treacherous heart went leaping for him.

“It wasn't enough to sleep with you. She had to think I was really seeing you. That way she’d wanna snatch you up and figure out why, leading us right to her.”

He backed up and sighed. You took a few breaths, trying to steady your racing heart.

He leaned against the opposite counter, eyes still watching you as he thought over his next words.

“…She actually found you pretty early on. The night I’d shown up…the night we…Shit was supposed to go down that night but…anyway I couldn’t show up after screwing shit up so I…went to you..”

Jeonghan shrugged his shoulders. Looking down he began picking at a callous on his palm.

He stood up straight and started unpacking the new food he purchased during a pit stop on the way here.

“Are you hungry? There's some kimbap here if you’d like.”

His attempt to change the subject was successful, you didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“No thank you.” You needed a moment to collect your thoughts. “ I’m gonna go and wash up.

“Oh right. Let me show you your room.”

Your room was cozy and spacious. Without waiting for him to leave you kicked off your shoes and pulled your sweaty shirt over your head, tossing it into the basket in a corner that said laundry on it.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Jeonghan said as he turned away to head out.

“Wait—“

He quickly turned back around, inquisition painting his face and he tried to rapid fire reasons in his brains as to why you’d ask him to stay while you pulled off your clothes.

“Can you help me wrap a new bandage? It was warm in the car so I’d like to shower.”

He nodded slowly. “Sure. Just call me when you’re done.”

You nodded and he left, closing the door behind him.

Did you really just ask him to wrap the bandage for you? You laid your face in your hands in exhaustion. ‘Whatever’ you told yourself as you pulled off the rest of your clothes. ‘Not like he hasn't seen them already.’

You reasoned with yourself and decided that shyness wasn’t worth losing sleep due to pain

You showered as quickly as you could with your sore body before drying off and lotioning as best as you could. You rummaged through the duffel bag of toiletries and clothes that Jeonghan had given you, putting on deodorant and slipping on a pair of panties and sweatpants. You wrapped your towel back around you and took a deep breath that you instantly regret when you felt the pain shoot through you. The pain was also a reminder to suck it up and go find Jeonghan.

You poked your head out of your door. “Jeonghan?” You called softly as you looked around the hallway.

When you didn’t get a response you walked towards the door across from yours and knocked. You heard movement inside the room and Jeonghan pulled open the door with a gentle smile on his face.

“Come in.”

He pulled open the door all the way and walked into the room. You hesitated for a moment and he looked back at you, amusement obvious in the twinkle of his eyes.

“Sit here.” He gestured to his bed where he had a first aid kit already open.

You scowled at him before shuffling into the room and sitting on the bed. You tried not to think about how pleasantly the room smelled of him.

Sitting next to you he faced you and waited. When you didn’t budge he lifted his hands towards your towel, stopping in front of your folded towel.

“May I?”

You nodded in response and set your arms down to your side.

He untucked the towel, letting it fall to your hips and revealing the tender skin underneath.

The room felt cold and your face burned hot.

When he bent down to pick up a jar of cream off of the floor you noticed the bright red of his ears.

He showed you the jar of medicinal topical pain relief before opening it and carefully scooping some with his fingers. “This will help with the pain, the healing, and the bruising. Kim makes it for me.”

You watched his hands move with careful elegance and he gingerly rubbed your bruises with the cooling cream. The strong medicinal smell was relaxing as he worked.

His movements were soft and graceful as he did his best to focus on his work and not your perked nipples or the soft rounds of your breast.

Unrolling the bandage he tenderly wrapped the stretchy material around your chest that now ached for more reasons than just bruises.

You couldn’t help exploring his face as he worked. His skin was smooth save for his chin that had a little light stubble on it. His warm brown eyes squinted as he focused on his task, his long straight eyelashes fluttering with every movement. His pink lips pressed into a line while his nose would scrunch in concentration.

There was still an heinously undeniable connection that tethered you to him, an energy that left you feeling breathless and warm.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Jeonghan's eyes met yours, his gaze softening with emotions you felt all too intensely.

He was now working the bandage upward to your breast and you could feel his hands slow.

He continued wrapping, his calluses finger tips grazing against your nipples sending your nerves into a frenzy. You swallowed, keeping your eyes on everything except him until he was finished.

Already feeling hot and bothered you felt a sense of relief wash over you now that his careful ministrations were complete.

You went to stand and he stopped you with a hand on your arm. Opening the cream again he took more out and began rubbing it into the bruise on your arm.

His fingers felt heavenly against your skin as he rubbed more into another bruise on your shoulder.

“Show me the other bruises?”

You complied, turning on the bed and showing him your back. This time his touch made you shiver as his nimble fingers traced along your spine.

“Sorry, you must be cold. I’m almost done.”

You felt disappointment settled in as his fingers pulled away from your tender skin.

He stood up and went to his drawer, opened it and pulled out a shirt.

“Here. Lift your arms a bit.”

You complied and Jeonghan carefully guided your arms through each arm hole before pulling the shirt over your head.

Jeonghan sat down on the floor in front of you, pulling up your pant leg.

“What are you doing?” You asked but didn’t pull your foot away from his warm hand where he cradled it.

“I noticed you walk with a bit of a limp.” He replied softly as he rubbed the cream into your ankle before taking another bandage and wrapping the slightly swollen joint.

He closed the jar and handed it to you.

“If you find any more bruises, rub this on them.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t.”

His voice was quiet and suddenly cold.

You looked down, meeting his eyes with confusion. Your ankle still rested softly in his hands making for a heavy atmosphere as he held your gaze.

You shook your head at him.

“Jeonghan. You saved me and now you’ve helped me again. So thank you.”

The expression on his face was unreadable as he carefully let you go and stood up.

Grabbing your hand he pulled you towards him, his body pressed against yours, his face inches away,

His other hand held your waist firmly against him.

Unmoving you breathed in sync as if you both had finished a complicated dance together.

You felt the pounding of his heart against the pounding of yours.

“Jeonghan…”

The way you called his name made his head spin.

He let you go and backed away.

“I put the food in the refrigerator.” He said heading for the door. “You are welcome to do whatever you want here.”

“Wait! Are you leaving?” Your voice came panicked as you followed him out of his room.

“I’ve got things to do. I’ll be back tonight.” He said as you trailed behind him down the stairs.

“But Jeonghan… please.” You pleaded. Feeling too vulnerable to finish the sentence.

He turned to you this time.

“It’s okay. I’ll be back-“

You cut him off with a kiss, your arms thrown around his neck. As his shock faded he rested his hands on your hips, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss.

Your lips were so soft against his and when you parted your lips he found your taste to be intoxicating.

Wrapped in the moment it took him a little bit to notice that suddenly your body was shaking.

Pulling back he saw the tears rolling down your face.

As you clung to Jeonghan with all your might you couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that spilled out. Even after everything that happened he still felt so safe and warm. As his arms wrapped around you and pulled you close you felt like everything would be okay. He held you like that as you cried out the last few days' events.

In his arms your world crumbled.

So why was there nowhere else you wanted to be?

No one else you wanted to be with.

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rush-the-stars · 3 days

Text

AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART III

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|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.8k || ao3 || <- part ii || masterlist ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

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“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

***

Suguru tries to tame you.

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✧ SPRING FEVER collab ✧

cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader, biting, blood, marking, one slap from the reader to suguru and he sorta likes it, fainting, fainting from lack of food, reader refuses to eat because she doesn't want getou to feed her, getou does not let reader eat unless he feeds them; forced feeding. forced bathing, smut; masturbation, dirty talk, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?

a/n: happy mother's day to alpha suguru getou <3 this is the third and final part of this lil series for @lorelune 's spring fever collab! pls mind the warnings, i added some! i will be honest this part feels like a fever dream to myself lol...,.not beta read..,.i barely read it back bc im terrified of my own smut JFDKLSK enjoy LMAO but on a real note, thank you to everyone who has reached out and been so kind ab this fic! i hope you enjoy this last part! let me know your thoughts <33

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When Suguru first offers you food from his own hand, you push it away. He cooked it for you and you refuse it, turn your nose up at him and shut your mouth resolutely, feel your lips cage your teeth like a muzzle

“I’ll do it myself.” You tell him firmly.

But then he holds the food away from you.

You go nearly a day and a half, feverish and woozy, without eating.

You do not plan on conceding, but end up fainting not long after. Your body is under too much stress; you need sustenance. You need food and water.

So he begins to feed you as your lashes flutter and you are too weak to deny him this time.

It’s easier, when you can hardly keep your eyes open. His hands are impossibly gentle. You feel his fingers against your lips, careful, and loving.

When you’re feeling better, you glower at him.

He is rather pleased, though.

The next time he tries to feed you by hand, you turn and bite his hand, sink your teeth into the meat of it.

He laughs warmly, fondly.

“Feel better to get that out of your system?” He asks, when you finally pull away.

You don’t respond to him.

He grabs your face swiftly then, big hand fitting around your jaw and bearing down. This time, he holds you steady, and brings the slice of orange to your mouth.

You squirm, but he says, “I will not have you fainting again.”

“Let me feed myself then.” You manage to get out, but he holds you tighter, presses at your jaw to get it to unhinge.

The orange pops into your mouth.

“You’re insufferable.” You say around it, cheek puffed with the fruit.

Unfortunately, it’s good. Sweet. A little cool. Refreshing. You do want more.

“This doesn’t have to be so difficult.” He responds evenly, peeling away the next piece of the orange. It looks so small in his hands.

You swallow the piece in your mouth.

“You’re right,” you respond stubbornly, “it doesn’t.” You reach for the next piece but he holds it away from you.

Frustration overcomes you, chokes you like thorny vines strangling out the softer plants around them. Heat hits your face again and you have to wonder if you’ll ever get over it all. If he’ll ever stop making you feel this way.

Tears prick your eyes again.

You turn your face away from him. He sighs.

“It isn’t so bad,” he says softly, “if you’d just give in.”

You sniff. “I could say the same of you.”

“I’m trying to take care of you,” he says, “and at every turn, you are still trying to refuse it.”

“I don’t need—”

“But don’t you want it?” He asks gently, hand reaching out slowly, knuckles first, so they skim your cheek. “It’s okay to want.”

Stubbornly, you remain silent.

“You’ve been so alone, for so long, my little stray. It’s okay to be taken care of.” He consoles softly, voice just a rumble that warms to your ears.

“I’ll not think you any less strong, if you let me feed you now.” He promises, “if you let me care for you this week.”

You don’t know why, but a tear slips down your cheek. There’s a lump in your throat, hard and aching, and threatening your resolve.

He catches your tear with a thumb. “Poor thing, so torn up.”

You sniff hard, trying to hold everything in. It’s trembling and tender, though, your heart. The ache in your chest.

You don’t think you’ll win this one—

Your head is foggy and throbbing. You don’t even know what you’re winning or losing. Or what you’re fighting for, when he puts it that way.

You feel silly for denying him.

Perhaps worse for agreeing.

Finally, in a voice smaller than intended? you ask, “can I have another piece?”

Suguru studies you for a moment.

He lifts the curved bend of the orange up to your lips, testing. Waiting. It's a half moon curve, ripe and tempting.

You give in and part your lips, accept the crescent into your mouth like holding the moon on your tongue for him.

He presses it inside, on your tongue, and you accept the crescent like holding a soft, tangerine moon in your mouth for him. His fingers skim your teeth, placing a world there, on your tongue.

“Good girl,” he says, pleased and warm, when you close around the slice.

And then you obediently swallow it down—worldeater that you are, hungry dog that you are.

Another tear slips free as you chew it slowly. It’s tangy and sweet and lovely. You feel the well of emotions inside you open up, threatening to drag you down into its depths—you think if you start to cry now, you won’t ever stop.

Suguru dutifully peels off another piece of orange, making sure it’s free of rind or unwanted seeds.

When he lifts it to your mouth, you open readily for it now. Close your lips around his fingers gently, around the sweet orange.

With tears in your eyes, you look up at him, through wet lashes.

His scent has darkened, pungent and spicier. It lingers in the back of your mouth. It’s—it makes your head spin.

And there's a strange look in his eyes now.

Almost hungry himself, if you didn’t know better.

A cramp rolls through you, hips and lower back churning, and you whimper, reaching for him.

He takes hold of you easily.

“Hurts?” He muses softly.

You nod, tense and quick.

“Breathe,” he urges, shifting between your knees from where you’re sitting perched on his counter.

Instinctively, you cling to him.

You let yourself pull him closer, fit himself to you—

“Breathe,” he says again gently.

But you can feel him between your legs, you can feel his own desire, and it strikes you like a bolt of lightning. Like crashing to earth.

He’s hard and heat sweeps through you in a whirlwind, so fast it makes you feel dizzy. Your head spins as you sink your nails deep into him, bear down with your strength like a bad dog, like you could get him to stay.

Distantly, you think he’s such a strange, awful man.

Is he so turned on from feeding you? Or from the fight?

“Suguru,” you mewl, clinging to him desperately. And he holds you, keeps you close, until your hips twitch.

You seek friction and he denies you.

Frustratingly, tears spring to your eyes again.

“You’re so—“ you try to get out, “why are you also denying yourself?”

“Because I made you a promise.” Suguru responds evenly. He pauses, eyes flickering over you, a lightning flash of violet, “and, perhaps,” he squeezes your waist, “to teach you a lesson.”

A noise of frustration works its way out of you, a little growl or whine, somewhere in the back of your throat.

“Won’t you do anything to help me?” You get out, pawing at his shoulders, his chest.

“I’m feeding you,” he says, “I’m caring for you.”

And then he draws away, back to the orange, and your fingers grip the edge of the counter until pain presses into them. You have to force air into your lungs, try and make your head stop spinning.

The wooziness and the aching is perhaps the worst part. You feel out of your mind, wish you could crawl out of your body.

When Suguru returns, he has another piece of orange between his fingers.

You glare up at him with glassy eyes.

“Open,” he says, warm and low.

Pleased.

Turned on.

Your lips part and you accept the fruit and his fingers into your mouth. You let yourself close around them, feel his knuckles on the inside of your warm, wet cheek.

You’re slow about it, or maybe he is.

You hold his gaze furiously.

Maybe it was time you taught him a lesson, too. You bite down hard into the orange. It bursts in your mouth.

***

The third day is perhaps the worst.

You’re so hot and somehow both overstimulated and undertouched. Your skin crawls until Suguru touches you. You ache in a way that makes you fear for your own health; several times you start to cry—not just cry, but bawl—from the pain. From the frustration.

At one point, you beg Suguru to take you to the hospital. To help you. To save you.

You babble that you’re going to split apart. You’re going to lose your mind.

Like a colicky baby, you can’t calm down.

And this time, he can’t quite seem to soothe you, either.

You twist and turn and pull at your clothes and your hair. You dig your nails into your own skin and drag them down in vicious, curving marks.

You press and scratch at inflamed, painful scent glands.

Your jaw hurts strangely in the joints.

(You realize you want something in your mouth. Maybe you want it between your teeth.)

Suguru tries to hold your hands away from yourself, tries to keep you from tearing into your own skin, but it only worsens you. It only makes you fight harder and cry harder. You lash out more, using more force with yourself, with him.

When he snaps finally, pinning you roughly and with a flash of his sharper, greater canines, something inside of you howls.

All you can do is beg and plead and cry. Press up against him desperately. Sink your face into his throat and inhale and—

Bite.

Your teeth close around the skin of his throat and bear down harshly.

He inhales sharply, spine going rigid with the pain for a moment.

You taste his blood on your tongue and feel your eyes roll blissfully to the back of your head. Darkness as your lashes flutter shut. You whimper into his throat—

“Is that what you needed?” He hisses, slipping his hand behind you to cradle your head to him, to keep you at his throat, “you just needed to get your teeth into me?”

As if in response, you twine yourself around him, hitching your legs around his waist. Your arms winding around his broad shoulders, as if you could absorb him into your very body, your very soul.

“Too bad it won’t take, hm?” Suguru muses, unmoving, allowing himself to melt into your vice grip on him.

You make a soft noise; one that would be embarrassing if you didn’t—if you weren’t so—

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To Mark me properly?” He continues, voice bedroom soft, “you want to scar me with your own teeth?”

As if in response, you try and fasten your mouth down harder, grinder your teeth into his flesh until he groans. The sound reverberates through you, rattles around inside your head until you’re mindless with it.

When you finally manage to unlatch your teeth, he hisses and pulls away to grab your jaw.

“What a little beast,” he sneers at you, “with my blood all over your mouth.”

Something inside of you snaps.

Unintentionally, you shudder into your cursed form—teeth elongating, nails sharpening. Strength rips through your otherwise feeble, heat-laddled body. In a sudden move of power, you shove him hard, and throw him off you.

In an instant, you are back atop him.

This time, when your teeth sink into the juncture of his other shoulder, they are far longer.

He actually cries out in pain.

The sound sparks beneath your skin, roars to life like a sudden fire and when he tries to grab your jaw and pry you off him, your claws sink into his wrist.

You struggle with each other, using your cursed energy, using all the strength you have.

Blood drips down his chest, dampening the collar of his shirt.

He barks out a pained laugh, “you really are a curse.”

And then he is forcing you off of him, wrenching your teeth out of his skin in a brutal drag, shoving you away from him.

You hiss, baring your dripping fangs at him and he growls back. The sound low and primal. Warning bells ping around your head, but you lunge for him again.

This time, he isn’t so ill-prepared.

He grapples with you on the bed, shoving you down into it with his forearm bearing down hard into your chest.

You make a noise of pain but he doesn’t let up.

He’s panting and bleeding, his long hair slipping from its usual half-up appearance.

Something inside of you is quite pleased at the image of him.

Not so pristine.

Perhaps unsure, for once in all the time you’ve known him.

“Calm down.” He says low and soft. Part growl, part purr. “Your aggression is misguided.”

Your teeth are bared in a snarl, “you are my tormentor.”

“I am only respecting your wishes.” Suguru says and there is a horrible, smug lift to the corner of his lips. Maybe it’s more a threat of his teeth, which gleam in the lowlight. “I made you a promise and I’m keeping it.”

“Let me up,” you snap.

“Will you be good?” Suguru asks.

Your fever spikes, tears pricking again at your eyes, and you finally lose your transformation. It melts from you, until you are fangless and drained once more.

So drained, in fact, that your eyes gutter.

Suguru is off you in an instant. Air rushes into your lungs, the pressure from your chest lifting and he lets you heave for breath rough and hard.

You don’t catch him move, but suddenly a glass of water is brought to your lips. When you can breathe, you drink. You let him guide it to your lips. And this time, when you try to pull away, he stops you.

His hand cradles the back of your head, keeping your mouth to the glass.

“More,” he presses, “you’re weaker than you know.”

And for once, you don’t fight him.

You gulp down the rest of it, some of it slipping from your mouth, down your chin, rolling down your working throat. It’s cool but barely a balm to the oppressive heat inside of you.

When you finish, Suguru pulls the glass away. He sets it down and studies you.

He tsks softly, “you’re a mess.”

You take him in, though your eyes are growing heavy, all of that fighting took a lot out of you. It’s catching up with you quickly now.

But your eyes land on the bite marks you’ve littered him with. The one, specifically, that is still ringed and bleeding, dripping down his chest.

“So are you.” You reply, words slurring.

You don’t catch what he says next, muffled, as you fade from consciousness. Darkness sweeps in to cradle you, much the way Suguru is now, and you fall into a restless sleep.

***

Suguru wakes you at some point.

It’s pitch black outside the window; there is very little light in the room at all, which adds to your confusion. Your head is throbbing.

You whimper.

“Sit up for me,” his voice is a hush, “can you do that?”

“Let me sleep,” you reply, pushing weakly at him as he forces you up. Everything swims. Your head lolls like a doll and he catches it so you don’t give yourself whiplash.

“You’re burning up,” he replies, “I need to get the fever down.”

You don’t have the wherewithal to understand this.

For a moment, you hope that he means—

“I’m going to give you a bath.”

You make another noise, this one in disagreement. Fussy.

He tuts softly at you, the way mothers do at bad children, and then he disappears, allowing you to fall back against the bed once more.

You’re not sure for how long, but you doze off again, unable to keep your eyes open. You only awake when Suguru lifts you clear from the bed and into his arms. Again, you make a noise of protest, pushing weakly at him, but he pays you no mind.

You open your eyes and wince against the bathroom light.

The bath is running, filling with water. You frown and squirm in his hold, just as he gently sets you on the floor beside the tub.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he murmurs and you push his hands away.

“No,” you snap, “leave.”

He sighs, “you can hardly sit up right now. I don’t trust you in the bath alone.”

“I’m not a child,” you protest.

“No, but you’re experiencing a compounded Heat, after years of not having one and you don’t have a knot to soothe you.” Suguru’s voice is cool. His eyes are, too.

You level him with the best glare you can manage, “and whose fault is that?”

“I’m only keeping my promise.” He almost sings.

You swat at him but he catches your wrist easily and pulls you up further as you begin to slouch further and further down against the edge of the tub. “Come,” he says, “don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

This time, when he reaches to remove your shirt, you only grumble in protest. He peels it from you carefully, revealing bare skin. Despite how hot you are, you shiver hard.

You ache.

This is the worst fever you’ve ever had. Perhaps, this is one of the worst you’ve felt ever.

You can hardly move enough to allow Suguru to slip your bottoms off and you feel so miserable that you can’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed or frustrated or angry.

Tears bead at your eyes again but it’s purely because you are in so much pain.

Suguru lifts you into the bath.

It’s lukewarm. Tufts of bubbles smell like lavender. The water is milky and gentle.

You don’t realize it, but you’ve started to cry again, reaching out for Suguru. You realize he’s cleaned and bandaged his bite mark. He also coos to you, rolling up his sleeves to reach you in the water, stroking at your throat, your cheek.

And then he takes a wash cloth in hand and begins to do the same. He bathes you with a strange gentleness. A gentleness you have not given him. Your tears continue, tracking down your face, which he dutifully washes, too. He wipes away your tears, any sweat and grime, until you feel shining and new.

Eventually, you rest your arms on the lip of the bathtub, folded, and lay your cheek against them. You’re exhausted and still hurting, but at least quiet for now. At least you are cleaned and—

Suguru strokes at your cheek, traces the curve and folds of your ear, gently strokes through your hair.

“Poor thing,” Suguru murmurs, knuckles drawing across your jaw, down your throat. When he passes along your scent gland, you shiver, you wince a little.

“Hurts,” you get out and he coos more to you.

Babying you.

And you don’t have the strength to deny him any longer, so you let yourself be babied. You whimper at him and let him try to soothe you, you let him quiet and pet you.

You’re looking at each other rather frankly, through the haze of your Heat, through all the lust or aggression or fear. In a rare moment of peace, you gaze up at his face and he looks down into yours.

“Do you hate me?” You ask and your voice is rather raw from all the crying, “is that why you’ve led me here?”

A strangely fond smile touches his lips, “on the contrary,” Suguru replies, fingers careful along your cheek, “I adore you.”

“You have such a strange way of showing it.” You tell him.

“I’m only keeping my promise,” he says again and all you have in you is a deep, dejected sigh.

“I’m going to make you pay for this, Suguru.” And though your tone is docile, even sleepy, it is a promise.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll try.” He agrees, touch growing stronger, bolder, as he pets down your throat, your shoulder. You lean into the touch like a cat, too exhausted to deny it. “And I’ll still be here after—your ire or punishment will not scare me away.”

You look at him for a moment, long and hard, and only find the truth there. Something strangely raw.

After a moment, you say, “I know.”

He hums softly, leaning forward to give your burning forehead a rare and gentle kiss, “do your worst, then.”

You pick your head up barely, tilt your face to his and catch him in a sudden, burning kiss.

You pull away as quickly as you’d done it.

You can tell you’ve surprised him only momentarily, it passes over his features like a bird flickering through the sky, there and gone.

And you say, “no,” soft, and against his lips, “I’ll do my best this time.”

He pulls away, creating carefully controlled distance. “Come,” he says, urging you up and out of the bath, “let’s get you to bed.”

“Carry me?” You ask as he bundles you into a soft towel. “Let me wear your shirt?”

His eyes glint violet, dark and quick, but he says, “of course.” And indulges you.

He even holds you all night and lets you sleep in late.

The fever only worsens.

And you can’t tell if your resolve crumbles or strengthens; but either way, you’re born anew with the sun the next day.

***

Suguru woke up before you. He let you sleep in. But now you're awake and waiting for him. When Suguru returns to wake you in the early afternoon, instead of sleeping, you are half-lidded and sun-warmed, laying in his sheets still. The fever has reached a pitch inside you. You’re sure it’s done irreparable damage to your mind and psyche because of how you find yourself.

Because of how Suguru finds you.

The shirt of his you’d worn to bed is pushed up to your chin, revealing your bare chest, your stomach, flexing and twitching, with your legs spread. Your fingers between them, working messily against yourself, against where you’ve needed since your Heat began.

For once, you have shocked Suguru.

Enough that his lips part.

Just a flash, a ripple of his features, before he smooths them out quickly. Effortlessly. But it is enough to spur you on regardless, to feel just slightly triumphant.

You keen softly, arching your back, pushing your fingers gently through silken folds.

“Suguru,” you mewl his name, all soft and broken, arching your hips into your own touch desperately. Beyond your desire for revenge, is simply your desire, the need to feel full, to feel pleasure like this. And you reasoned with yourself, all night, and all morning, that you’d win regardless; either you’d wrestle his tightly held control from his grasp, and get what you so desperately want from him, or you’d still get to touch yourself and find some brief moment of reprieve.

Beyond either of those two things, you could not think. They ran around your mind like wild, starved dogs hunting down the possibility of a rabbit.

(Or are you the rabbit? Running around and around your mind, trying to escape the bite? Or are you looking for it?)

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks and for a moment, he doesn’t dare step closer to you or the bed.

You push a finger inside yourself, it goes in easy—so slick and easy—that the next pass, you add a second and gasp.

What are you doing? You feel half out of your mind.

“Can’t help it—” you get out, “it hurts so bad. It’s—I’m so—”

You watch a muscle in his jaw feather and tick. His scent is—

It hits you like a blow to the chest, the way he smells. It’s dark and spiced with warmth; tobacco and the oud in his scent has become heavier. You can almost taste it in the air.

“Suguru—“ you mewl again, pleading and cloying. You tilt your hips up towards your hand, towards him. You’re trying to entice him.

You can nearly hear the way his teeth grind together.

“You’re a brat,” he hisses but you can sense the way his control has slipped and thinned. You can nearly feel it fraying in his voice alone.

You practically purr, fingers pushing desperately inside yourself.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” you simper, “I’ve been so good letting you feed me and bathe me—I’m wearing the shirt you put me in, too.”

For a moment, you watch as his eyes slowly dip down the length of your body, to where your fingers are. You watch his expression flicker, the tilt of his eyebrows, the slight parting of his lips. You whimper, knowing he’s watching, and try to curl your fingers.

But they don’t reach as deep as his might—not thick enough, either, and the ache inside you grows monstrously.

Perhaps only soothed by the way, for once, you’ve rendered Suguru Getou rather speechless. You toss your head back and moan at the thought.

“Suguru—won’t you help me? Even a little?” You arch off the bed and catch his gaze when his eyes fly back up to your face.

“No,” he snaps quickly, “I promised you—“

“Then tell me what to do—talk to me.” You beg, “it hurts so bad, Suguru—“

The muscle in his jaw feathers again. But this time, he wades carefully into the room, stepping closer to the edge of the bed.

The moment he’s there, you adjust so he can see you better, move so your foot is just nearly touching his thigh at the end of the bed. And even that small potential for touch has you crying out again.

“I’m not sure I should, after the way you’ve been acting.” He says and though he’s trying for casualness, you can sense the tension lurking underneath.

“Touch yourself then,” you breathe, your own eyes drifting down to his sweatpants—to the noticeable bulge—

In a bold move, you place your foot on his lower abdomen, looking up at him through your lashes as your fingers gently push in and out, walls fluttering desperately around them.

He catches your ankle before you can move another inch. The way he squeezes you makes a thrill run through you, race up your spine, pool somewhere low and hot in the depths of you.

“Is this your way of trying to make me suffer?” He asks and despite everything, a hint of a smile flickers across your heated, panting face.

“Is it working?” You ask.

All he does is hum, thumb stroking along the bone of your ankle.

Even that is enough for pleasure to skitter and flare beneath your skin.

“Wanna see you,” you get out, breathy and soft, “wanna see what I’m missing.”

Suguru curses and you laugh, delirious and soft.

Pleasure blushes and surges beneath your skin.

“No,” he says again but he has to grind the word out, pull it and wrestle it from his own mouth. “You won’t get the better of me here.”

“Don’t you get tired of your tightly wound control?” You get out, twisting a little so that you might free your ankle from his grasp, but he holds firm.

“I should be asking the same of you—but clearly,” his eyes flicker again, “you do.”

“Need you so bad—“ you get out, almost pouting.

You can nearly hear his teeth grind together. He inhales sharply, as if to try and steady himself, but you can tell it only worsens him. Your scent must be thick in the air, sweetened and cloying.

Your fingers slip messily, desperately, over your clit, down inside of yourself and back out. You whine, a little frustrated, trying again and again to satiate the ache inside of you. But anything you do, isn’t enough.

It almost feels as if it’s made it worse.

“Poor thing,” Suguru finally says and you realize, he’s regained some of his composure, “look what you’ve done to yourself.”

You curse this time.

But you press on, unwilling to give up your win yet, “you’ve also done this—because you wanted the upper hand so bad.” You press inside yourself, hips lifting towards your fingers, “you didn’t have to take the suppressants.”

His brow flickers up, “I did it for you.”

“Did you?” You gasp, adding a second finger.

He swallows, eyes falling to the apex of your thighs, watching, as you fitfully try to pleasure yourself.

“You didn’t have to—you could’ve let me trigger your Rut. Then we both would’ve been like this—” your voice hitches, “then you would’ve gotten what you wanted sooner and you could’ve feigned innocence.”

“You didn’t want that,” he says, watching you carefully, “who's to say you won’t come out of this Heat and resist me again?”

“I won’t,” you breathe, “I did—” you mewl, hips arching and falling, trying so hard, working yourself up so horribly.

You bite off a groan.

Suguru clicks his tongue, makes a soft, disapproving noise. “And now look at you,” his hand slides along your calf, so large, and—

“Don’t even know how to properly touch yourself.”

“Suguru—”

Suddenly, he tugs you gently, so you’re down at the edge of the bed, your legs on either side of his thighs as he stands above you.

He leans down slightly and you sit up, towards him, hoping, desperate—

“Such a terrible, little Omega. Do you need me to teach you this, too? Do you need me to help you?”

You cry out, kitten soft, as needy and tender as a child.

“Please,” you beg, “please, I need you—”

His hand traces up the outside of your calf, up to your thigh and you squirm, hope fluttering, heart racing—

“Don’t move,” he murmurs, “or I won’t help you.”

“Suguru,” you growl in frustration.

“Ah, ah, I thought you were being good?”

Your head spins—you have no idea how he managed to flip it on you so sharply, but suddenly he has, and suddenly you're nearly underneath him, and he’s leaning over you and watching so intensely—so—

You try to go still for him. Your chest is heaving.

“That’s it,” he murmurs and his hand slowly arcs over the bend of your hip, and towards your stomach. Your hips twitch and he stills, “careful—” he warns.

You force yourself to freeze, still panting.

And then he lays the broadness of his hand on your lower stomach, his thumb just barely brushing your mound.

“This is as far as I’ll go,” he says and with the way you almost fall into a frustrated groan, he seizes your chin with his other hand, “I’ll not touch you sexually. This is all I’ll give you—be grateful for even this.”

You sneer at him and he takes his hand away.

Instantly, you miss the warmth, the pressure, the—

“Be good, or I’ll leave the room now and let you suffer even worse than before—see what you’ve done to yourself? Worked yourself up so horribly, and all for what?” Suguru’s voice is soft and smooth and so, horribly in control again. When did he get it back? When did he take it from you?

“My attention? The hopes that I’d give in?” He asks.

When you don’t respond, he squeezes your face, prompting you, “answer me, pet.”

“Yes—I want your attention. I want—” the words break over you like a wave, the realization like a blow. You want.

You desire.

You want him. You want an Alpha and not just any Alpha but Suguru, despite everything, maybe because of everything. Maybe because you made him chase, and he did. Maybe because you have run your whole life from this—this attention and this desire and this intimacy—and you have finally found someone willing to hunt you down like a fox, and in the face of your gnashing teeth and growling and yipping, to treat you gently. Like you’re a beloved house pet and not a snarling, wild beast.

“I want you,” you say honestly and his hold slackens on your cheeks to let you speak, “I hate you and I want you and—there’s no one but you—it’s only you and you’re awful but I am, too, and I need—”

It cracks out of you, voice raw, a half-sob.

Your tears make him smile.

He hushes you gently, “oh, sweet girl,” he soothes, and his other hand slowly returns to its place on your trembling, lower stomach, “you’re so torn up about this. How much grief have you given yourself? Hm? Just for wanting?”

You heave, unable to respond, suddenly reaching with your free hand for him, pulling on his shirt, closer to you.

He gives in and goes, lets you claw at his back and bury your face in his shoulder. He finally lets go of your face, in favor of letting you fall to pieces beneath him. His knee dips on the mattress. But he holds himself above you still.

“I’ll guide you now,” he murmurs and his voice is by your ear. He turns his nose to nudge against your temple, inhaling slowly.

You can feel the rumble of a groan through him that he holds back, a soft growl.

And then, “look at me.”

You sniffle and with a great deal of reluctance, you pull your face away from the safety of his shoulder to find his gaze. Midnight violet. Depthless.

“Hate me all you want,” he says, “but I adore you—no matter how you are. Willing and pliant, or vicious and biting. I’ll always adore you. And I’ll always do what’s best for you.”

Something inside of you cleaves open. Fractures in a way that is irreparable.

You want to say something but you don’t know what, you have something so tremendous and terrifying inside of you, because of him—all you can get out is a soft cry.

“Now,” he continues, eyes flickering over your body, and his thumb gently strokes over your lower stomach. “You feel empty, don’t you?”

A whimper eeks out of you. You nod slowly. Empty and torn apart and open and aching.

“Use three fingers, not two.” He commands gently, “you want something bigger, hm? I’m sure it hurts so badly—you’re so wet.”

Without thinking, you obey him.

You press three fingers carefully inside of you and it’s the first stretch you’ve gotten, the first spark of relief.

You cry out, clinging to him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, “in and out for me.”

You tilt your hips up into his hand, towards your fingers, and he doesn’t scold you. The pressure on your lower stomach makes pleasure bloom and strengthen there. For a moment, it’s just the soft, slick noises of yourself, and it’s so—

Embarrassing. So horrible.

You must look out of your depth, you must look lost or terrified, because he finally speaks again, “curl your fingers for me, darling.”

You do just that and moan the moment you press deeper inside yourself.

“Good girl,” he praises, “does that feel better? Answer me.”

“Yes—yeah.” You get out, crooking your fingers inside yourself. “I still want—”

“More?” He murmurs, pressing his hand gently against your lower stomach, “this time, you have to make do with just this.”

You bite back your whine or complaint, head hazy—fingers moving desperately. But you don’t complain, you don’t fuss.

He smiles when he realizes how you’ve caught yourself, “oh, look at that,” he purrs, “you can be tamed after all.”

And before you can ruin it for yourself, Suguru sweeps his thumb just barely over your mound again, and says, “rock your hips now, gentle.”

The moment you do, the friction against your palm makes you moan, head falling back, baring your throat.

Perhaps without thinking, he dips forward, nose tracing over the cure of your neck, following instinct. You make another soft noise, and in your haze, wish desperately that he would just bite down—

All you get is the brief skim of his warm, soft lips. No teeth and you miss them, achingly.

He presses his hand down just a little more and—

Pleasure bursts beneath your skin with enough force that your back bows off the bed, mouth parted.

You sob.

You feel your walls flutter uselessly around your fingers, feel your body desperate for something you can’t have this time, and fall apart.

Suguru is there to catch you.

He coos to you, soft and easy, and even kisses at your damp, tear-struck cheeks. He lets you arch and twist and chase your pleasure, lets you be wanton and shameless and desperate. He lets you claw him and bite him and cry into his shoulder.

And when you begin to quiet, he suddenly hitches your legs around his waist and lifts you clear from the bed. You lope your arms weakly around his neck and bury your face into his throat.

You don’t protest or fight him, you are grateful and eager for all the places you touch, feeling incredibly fragile in his broad arms.

You don’t bother to look where he’s taking you—can’t find it in yourself to care, if you can feel him against your center, feel where he’s hard and aching himself, even with the suppressants—

But between one breath and the next, you’re in the bathtub again, and the water from the shower blasts on from above.

Ice cold water pours on you.

You shriek and Suguru has the nerve to laugh, which makes you lunge for him, yanking him towards the spray of water.

It soaks his shirt, his hair, as he holds himself over you, before stepping carefully into the tub to join you.

He sits with you, beneath the cold water, and pushes his hair out of his face as you clamber into his lap.

You pull at his wet shirt and he lets you take it off of him, throw it over the side of the tub in a heap.

He reaches to do the same to you, ridding you of the only article of clothing you’d had on.

You grit your teeth, “does it have to be so cold?” You ask, feeling the spray now rain against your back, your shoulders. You lean away from it, into his arms.

“You needed this.” He says fondly. And then, as he strokes your wet hair, “I did, too.”

“You’re an awful man,” you curse him, shivering.

“I know,” he agrees with a soft, fond smile.

You look at him, hair inky and dark, lashes damp against his cheek, and the pleased way he smiles. Like an insufferable, giant cat. You’re aching and furious and freezing and so—so tender.

“I hate you,” you tell him but it sounds more like a confession, soft around the edges.

He kisses your temple, lingers there, and you can feel the curve of his smile. You can hear it color his voice;

“I know.”

***

Something shifts between the two of you after that. And the following day, your Heat finally begins to wane slightly.

You try to touch yourself again and Suguru forbids it this time. You fight and snarl with him, but you let him hold you and lull you to sleep. You let him feed you. And bathe you. You sleep bare against his naked chest and are soothed by it the way a fussy baby is calmed by the bare skin of their mother.

You feel infinitely closer to him.

You lounge with him in bed, in his living room, hanging off him all that you can.

He indulges this behavior, encourages it, even.

And on the eighth day, your Heat finally breaks.

When you wake, still curled on his chest, with his hands stroking tenderly over your bare back, he asks, “how do you feel?”

“Sane, I think.” You murmur it into his chest.

“Your Heat broke in the night.” He says and touches your head, your forehead, like he’s taking your temperature. “You’re still a little warmer, but it’s over now, I think.”

Slowly, you pick yourself up to look at him. To hover over him.

He looks up at you, too, uncertain. Waiting. You’re sure he’s waiting to see if you’ll return to your usual self, if you’ll snap or snarl or chew him out—will you storm out? Or seethe? Will you fight him still, after everything, even as he holds you in his arms now?

“Thank you for respecting my wishes,” you say instead and lean down to suddenly press your lips to his.

You feel his surprise, the way his lips part, the way he freezes and you sink down into it. For a moment, you worry he won’t reciprocate again.

But then, his hand comes up to cradle your face, and he nudges into the kiss. Hungry. Deep.

You give into him, you encourage him, coaxing him with soft tongue and eager mouth.

When you pull away, you grab his face this time, the way he always grabs yours, squeezing his lips into a little pout, “but if you ever make me suffer like that again through a Heat,” your nails dig into his cheek, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

He laughs, canines flashing, and surges forward to kiss you again. Harder. Meaner.

It’s all teeth and heat, a little vicious, the way you are. He wrestles you beneath him, kisses you into the mattress. And when he pulls away, he says;

“If you ever make me suffer like that again, you’ll wish you’d killed me first.”

You feel your own smile against his neck, against one of the ridges of your own bite mark, and with all the satisfaction in the world, you sink your teeth down into it again.

It’s like a key coming up against a lock, fitting snugly to their own indents, and finding their own, well-worn place.

It’s like finally coming home.

#suguru getou x reader #getou x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru getou x you #getou x you #getou suguru x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #cw: omegaverse #cielo's writing!#cielo writes!

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 13 hours

Text

In the Moonlight

Author's Note: This is a part of the Dancing With the Devil AU, but can be read as a stand alone. The Vamp!Rhys brain rot has taken over and there aren't enough fics to satisfy me so I wrote more ;)

Pairing: Vamp!Rhys x Reader x Vamp!Azriel

Content Warnings: SMUT, threesomes, oral (f and m receiving) blood, typical vampire stuff

Based on this post/ original fic

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You’ve always loved music, the steady flow of the strings, the heavy pulse of the drums; it’s always been something that moves and excites you, your body knows how to respond to it as if it's its basest instinct. Music was the siren song that had pulled you and Nesta to the dance floor all those years ago, as children, eager to dance and move and lose yourself in the steps of a blooming waltz that made the other mortal children dizzy. It had been one of your few chances at freedom, and you had chased that opportunity all the way to the Velaris Estate weeks ago, and had now found a new sense of freedom.

It’s still tied to music, by some humorous twist of fate. You’d learned early on that the Lord of the Estate had the set list planned: Something graceful and elegant to start, the slow thrum of the string section pushing people onto the dance floor, highlighting easy prey in those lingering on the edge with no partner to claim them. Then something more sensual, as the predators take the floor, snatching their prey with a charming bow and disarming smile. These will span several songs, get their prey comfortable with their presence, before the shift becomes something with more drums and base, music to disappear into the dark corners to.

Their ability to move so seamlessly, so flawlessly that no one suspects there might be ill intent in the gesture is still mind boggling. You stand in the shadows of the upstairs veranda, watching Rhysand and his horde move as you sip from a full wine glass, content to study for now. The bargain had never specified when Rhys was supposed to turn you, for now, you attend his parties and do your best to study them, so when the time comes you’ll be prepared.

There are new faces in the crowd tonight, less and less of your neighbors and childhood friends filling the expensive ballroom now that word had spread that you hadn’t returned home, all those weeks ago. As expected, your brother had nearly torn the Spring Estate to shreds when he’d found you gone. Nesta had apparently witnessed you sitting in Rhys’s lap--though by some magic or sheer luck, she hadn’t seen him drinking from your neck--and had gone straight to Tamlin to tell him. The betrayal had burned white hot, and not for the first time, were you thankful the ancient vampire hadn’t turned you yet, or else the destruction you might have caused in the aftermath would have made Tamlin’s look like a child’s temper tantrum. She hadn’t tried to explain herself, every one of your friends had turned their back on you, a couple of them had outright called you a whore to your face before vowing to never speak to you again. None of them were known to be tight lipped either, the whole town was sure to know that you’d “debased yourself with the Lord of Velaris”. It would have hurt less if you hadn’t spent the last couple of years protecting Nesta’s own secret lovers, but you had to admit, the newfound freedom of living here lessened the sting more and more each day. There were no governesses dictating your every outfit and hairstyle; no stewards limiting the amount of food you got at each meal to ensure you stayed pretty and thin for a would-be husband; no guards to regulate how much time you spent outside and where you could go. If you wanted to wear something, you did; if you wanted to eat you could go into the kitchens now and ask for it and the staff would do so eagerly; if you wanted to go outside and run until you got lost in the mountains, you were free to do so. There were no restrictions with Rhys, the fact alone was enough to keep you here, though the prospect of immortality pulled a little more and more each day. It wasn’t even the living forever thing, you really weren’t that interested in that part. It was the strength, the power, the freedom to be wild and unrestrained and never have to worry about being hurt or caged again. Once you were a vampire, no one could keep you locked away.

You take another sip of wine as the music begins to shift and the lights dim. Feeding time. Rhys dances beneath you with a blonde woman, the neckline of her gown so deep you can see the heavy swell of her breasts from your vantage point. You shove down the pang of jealousy you feel upon seeing those hands on someone else’s hips with another deep drink from your wine glass.

Mor dances with a female on the edge of the crowd, the darkest part of the dance floor, where the judgmental eyes of the town won’t be so quick to spot her. Cassian hasn’t danced all night, has spent the evening prowling around the refreshment table, trying to get drunk despite his accelerated metabolism making it hard. He’d hoped to make a similar bargain with Nesta all those weeks ago, but you’re pretty sure he’d stepped on her foot and she’d left scowling in search of you before she’d found you in Rhys’s lap. Poor Cassian has been moping since.

You haven’t seen Azriel all night, but that’s how he likes it. He could be as charming as Rhys if he wanted, but he likes his solitude too much to risk it. When he steps out of the shadows to your left, as if your thoughts had materialized him, it’s little surprise. Rhys had explained that every vampire had their own unique abilities, among some shared traits, and Azriel’s shadow manipulation made him an excellent hunter.

“You’re not dancing tonight?” He says as he comes to stand beside you, scared hands resting on the banister railing.

You take another sip of wine. “I didn’t know I was on the menu tonight.” A lie, Mor had helped you pick a gown with a neckline that plunged all the way down to your midsection with the intent of catching the Vampire Lord’s eye, but you had chickened out at the last minute and hid. Having the freedom to chose and the bravery to walk out in public were two very different things, but you hadn’t realized it until too late.

Hazel eyes roam the expanse of your exposed skin, the way your hair is pinned up out of the way so that the full expanse of your throat is available. It doesn’t hide the hickey’s Rhys had left a couple nights ago either, the dark marks smattered across your collarbones and lower, following the path of your gown. “So everyone knows your mine,” Rhys had purred in your ear and before the ball you had been thrilled to show them off. Until a few wandering eyes had lingered too long, the judgment clear on their faces. You’d spent the rest of the night hoping everyone would forget you’d existed.

“He’s looking for you,” Azriel says half-heartedly, eyes still exploring you. There’s a hunger there you can’t miss; that has you pressing your thighs a little tighter together. Azriel is as devastatingly handsome as Rhys is, and this is not the first time you’ve noticed the attention he gives you, but it has never gone anywhere. Especially not when his sire is the one leaving all these marks on your throat.

“He seemed plenty preoccupied with that blonde,” you reply.

A half-smile creases the vampire’s usually stoic face. “Jealous, little one?”

“No,” you say. “Just observing.”

The grin remains as he holds out a hand in silent invitation and when you take it, you can’t help but wonder how those large, scarred hands would feel on your thighs, spreading you open…

The world spins and flips as Azriel shadow steps the two of you down into what they call the Den, the unlit corners of the ballroom where they can feed in near privacy. There’s no doors to lock, though there are several glamors in place to keep wandering eyes from getting suspicious.

Mor and a newly turned Emerie are already sharing a female on a couch in the corner, and the blonde winks at you as she sinks her fangs deeper into her prey.

On the opposite side of the Den, nursing a glass of whiskey under the light of the full moon peeking through the curtains, is Rhys. He looks like a god in this lighting, violet eyes glowing in the dimness. You can’t help but notice that he sits alone, his dance partner nowhere to be seen. While it’s never been discussed that you’re the only human he’s feeding on, a part of you is relieved to see that he hasn’t taken anyone else. It’s a strange sort of satisfaction, knowing there’s something in your blood that keeps him coming back again and again.

Violet eyes watch your every step forward with the intensity of a jungle cat on the hunt. “There you are, Darling,” he purrs. “I was looking for you.”

“Liar,” you tease.

He makes himself more comfortable in the large wing-backed chair, legs spread and you can’t decide if you want to climb in his lap or get on your knees for him more.

“Did you spook your dance partner?”

“No,” he says as he brings the whiskey back to his lips and takes a slow drink. “She was dull and she kept stepping on my toes.”

“You poor baby,” you croon and he grins as he sets the whiskey down on a small side table.

“I would have been spared if you hadn’t decided to be a wallflower tonight,” he replies, hand tapping at his thigh for an invitation for you to come sit. “What’s bothering you?”

The slit in your skirts makes moving them out of your way easy as you climb into his lap, knees bracketing his hips. Every time you think you’ll enjoy it less, but there is no feeling quite like this one, you could sit here forever. “I-”

Rhys presses his lips over a bruise on your neck.

“I was going to come down, but,” the words catch in your throat a bit, your cheeks flushed. “I think I should have worn something else.”

Slender fingers brush over your exposed skin making a shiver run down your spine. “Why would you do that?” He counters. “You look breathtaking. Doesn’t she, Az?”

You’ve almost forgotten the other vampire was still standing there, still watching in that silent, shadowy way of his. When you throw a glance at him over your shoulder, he’s standing with his hands in his pockets, eyes narrowed into the exposed bit of your thigh from where the dress is split.

“Absolutely sinful,” he says softly.

Now you’re really blushing. “I-I was hoping you’d like it,” you stammer. “I just… I don’t like when people are looking at me.”

“I do like it,” he says so lowly that heat begins to build in your core. “So much so that I had to stop myself from taking you against the railing over and over again.” Teeth scrape lightly over your skin, teasing, not quite tasting you yet.

“Az was thinking about it too,” he hums into your skin. “You should hear the things he thinks about you.”

“Rhys-” Azriel begins, the apology on his lips, but Rhys pulls away from your neck to motion him over.

“What do you think, little one, should we give him a little taste?” You’ve never been more aware of your own body than you are with Azriel at your back, and the firm planes of Rhys at your front.

You glance back and forth between them, at the tension that rolls off Azriel, at the hunger that chases your every motion in Rhys’s eyes. In your mind he says, “It’s your choice, Darling.”

“You-you won’t be mad?”

His laugh is a beautiful thing, even in your mind. “Azriel and I have shared many females. Cassian too. I enjoy it, as long as my partner does too. And I know that you’ve thought about him, it’s hard not to, but only if you really want to.”

You’ve been studying all of them: The way they hunt, the way they move, what separates them from humans and other vampires alike. Rhys is refined in his ability to hunt, uses his charm and his wits to bait prey into the Den; he makes feeding an art form, something graceful and dazzling, an allure only someone who’s done this for a long time can make possible. Cassian is messy, he likes to splatter blood when he feeds, and while he’s calculating and strategic in the initial hunt, he has no qualms getting dirty. Mor thrives in the dark corners of the ballroom, meeting in secret with her lovers because she does not trust people enough to bring a stranger into the Den. And Amren, well you’ve only met her once, and she’d traded some of her books for a mere drop of blood from your wrist before she disappeared again. But Azriel, you haven’t really figured out. He always hovers at the edge of the crowd, only speaks or feeds when he needs to, as if denying himself the pleasure the others chase will absolve him of whatever darkness lingers in his past. You know it’s there, have heard it hinted at, but no one will say it out loud. The more you try to learn about them, the more a mystery Azriel remains, and you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t curious to see how he feeds compared to Rhys.

“I do.”

And there is no judgment there. Unlike everyone else tonight. The freedom to choose, to want, is enough to make you toss your arms around his neck and lean in to kiss the tip of his nose. Anywhere else he might be regarded as a monster of the night, but here, like this, you’ve never felt safer.

Rhys presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “And who am I to deny my little pet anything?”

Azriel’s hands settle on your hips, that immortal strength never failing to make you feel fragile and small in their grip. It sends a shiver of delight through you; there’s no denying how much you love the freedom of handing over your power and knowing they won’t abuse it.

His warm breath fans your neck as he brings his lips to your exposed throat. “Been thinking about this since you arrived.”

Rhys nips at where your neck meets your collarbone, hands skimming your sides until he finds your breasts, nipples peaked through the thin fabric. “How would you like to taste her first?”

Teeth scrape over your pulse point, savoring the rapid beating of your heart. “Turn her around.”

They move you together, fingers digging into your hips as you're positioned with your back to Rhys’s chest, legs spread by his knees. Your skirts get caught, bunched up around your hips, baring most of your legs and you give a little squeak of surprise as you try to close them, to spare what’s left of your dignity, but there’s no room as Azriel kneels between both yours and Rhys’s legs.

Heat pools in your core, even as your cheeks heat in embarrassment. “Someone is going to see us!” You squeak, voice more shrill than you would have liked it to be. You want this, you want it more than you’ll ever allow yourself to say out loud, but there is a crowd nearby and even with the glamor in place, it is still a far more compromising position than you’ve ever been in. At least before, your skirts hid your coupling, but there’s no hiding like this, as Rhys loops an arm around your waist and sinks his fangs into your neck.

The shadows that leak from Azriel drift off his broad shoulders, shimmering and darkening, as if they’re absorbing the moonlight seeping through the window. “Not unless you want them to,” he says as those scared hands drag up your soft skin.

Your hips buck despite yourself, body aching to be touched; for more, more, more. The aphrodisiac in Rhys’s venom takes hold quickly, makes your whole body molten. The combination of pain and pleasure makes you close your eyes and lean your head back against Rhys’s shoulder.

“Good girl,” Rhys purrs into your mind so he doesn’t have to release his grip on your neck. “Just relax, let us take care of you.”

Azriel must be linked into your conversation, because he says in your mind, “There’s not much room for creatures like us in temples, but I’ll worship here just the same,” as his own fangs sink into the tender flesh of your inner thigh.

It’s a far more tender spot than you thought it would be, a whimper of pain escaping you, body rocking back into the hard planes of Rhys’s chest and the growing bulge in his pants to try and escape. Their combined grip on you keeps you from getting far, but that whimper turns into a moan as Rhys drags a hand down between your legs to give you some relief. He chuckles into your mind when he finds you’re not wearing any underthings, but the slit in your skirts had made you nervous that someone would see the lacy underthings that kept appearing in your drawers if you moved too fast.

“Fuck,” Azriel moans as he unlatches his fangs from your thigh, fingers playing in the bit of blood that trickles out the puncture wounds. “She’s so sweet!”

Rhys, never one to make a mess, laps at what escapes from the wounds he made at your throat before saying, “I told you she was.”

Hazel eyes narrow into the teasing strokes the other vampire is making between your legs, watching with rapt attention the way Rhys spreads you open as he licks your blood off his lips. Vampires, you’ve noticed, have a strange sort of stillness about them, they can become still as statues, unmoving, never blinking, it was still nerve wracking, especially now that you know that predatory stillness comes right before they pounce, and Azriel has that same look about him, right before he leans in and licks a stripe up your center.

Rhys chuckles in your ear as you moan and try one more time to squirm away from their dual ministrations, body overwhelmed as he curls a finger inside you and Azriel follows with his tongue.

You’re going to reach your high embarrassingly fast at this rate, especially when Rhys’s free hand slides your top to the side so he can roll a nipple between his fingers. You squeeze your eyes shut, one hand reaching behind you to tangle in Rhys’s hair, the other in Azriel’s to try and ground yourself. The intensity of both their venom in your bloodstream has heightened everything beyond what you’d already thought possible, your skin burning, coated in sweat from this alone. Their efforts are somehow too much and not enough and you’ve lost the presence of mind to tell which of their names you’re crying out first, it might be both of them.

Azriel feasts on you like a male starved, and the shadows not making a shield around the three of you writhe eagerly over your thighs, dusting your heated skin with cool touches that make you buck your hips as best you can against their master’s grip. Rhys adds a second finger, using your gathering wetness and Azriel’s spit to spread you open further, giving the other male more access to you, his nose brushing your clit, chin absolutely soaked in the mess you’re making. The move has you panting, stars blurring across your vision as an orgasm tears through you.

“Fuck,” you whimper, body shaking from your high.

Rhys peppers kisses along your neck and shoulders as Azriel pulls back, licking your release off his lips. “No wonder you’ve been hiding this one from the rest of us,” he says huskily. “I could spend all night like this.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, little one?” Rhys purrs in your ear, breath tickling your still flushed skin. Their venom hasn’t worn off yet, body still not satiated, still begging to be touched and claimed. There’s not a chance you can close your legs, the evidence of your still budding arousal leaking onto his pants.

“Please,” you whimper.

“Which one of us do you want first, hm?”

How are you supposed to choose? There are too many things you want and it’s all getting muddled in your head. “Both.”

It’s Azriel’s deep rumble of a laugh that skitters across your skin as he says, “You can’t take both of us in this body, little one.” Scarred hands skim your exposed thighs, fingers kneading into the bite marks that are quickly turning into a bruise. “Humans are so fragile.”

And damn do you certainly feel it like this, tucked between the two of them. They could so easily break you, so easily overpower you. It’s thrilling and terrifying all at once.

“Want…” your cheeks heat, a blush crawling its way up your neck and Rhys runs his tongue over it with a chuckle.

“Tell us what you want, Darling.”

You shiver, despite the flush of your damp skin. “Want to taste you then.”

You watch with rapt attention as those hazel eyes widen, the golden ring thinning until there is nothing but pupil as he processes what you’re saying. Still, you grind yourself down on Rhys’s bulge as you reach for the laces on Azriel’s pants, hoping he gets the hint as well.

“Greedy little thing,” Azriel tuts, but he steps closer anyway, letting you figure out how to get the laces untied in the moonlight. “I don’t think you’ve properly trained your pet, Rhys.”

Rhys’s fingers dip into the tender flesh of your hips mercilessly as he grinds you back against his erection, a rumble of a moan echoing through his chest. “Don’t want this one trained,” he purrs. “They taste better when they’re wild.”

You manage to get the laces undone, hands shaking a bit when you realize what you’ve just gotten yourself into. Rhys is a lot on his own, Azriel is… bigger than you expected. A lot bigger, his cock heavy and erect against his stomach.

They must be having their own mental conversation, when you pause to consider how to even go about this, Azriel suddenly reaches out to grab you by the hair, pulling you forward as Rhys moves your skirts out of the way. Their movements are in perfect sync and you don’t know whether you should hiss from the sting of those large hands in your hair or moan as Rhys rubs the tip of his cock against your center. The sound that comes out of you is a little bit of both in the end.

“Are you sure about this?” Rhys inquires as if there could possibly be any thought in your head other than how much you need the both of them right now. Do they not share the same ache you feel? How are they not consumed by this thing that begs beneath your skin to be touched and soothed and filled?

You lean forward just enough to lick Azriel’s tip, catching a bead of pre-cum on your tongue as the male’s fingers tighten in your hair, a hiss escaping him. “Very sure.”

“Tap my thigh twice if it gets to be too much,” Rhys orders.

You nod your understanding as he slides slowly into you, letting you get adjusted to the feel of him from this angle. He’s deliberately slow, gliding in inch by inch, making your eyes roll back into your head, all your focus on the feel of him instead of tending to Az.

“I see she gets her greediness from you,” Azriel teases.

You have to brace yourself against Azriel’s hips as Rhys rocks your forward, chuckling. “Just because I said I’d share, doesn’t mean I’m not going to have my fill.”

Stars dance across your vision as he hits an angle inside you he hasn’t reached before, mouth falling open as pleasure licks its way up your spine.

Azriel grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him when all you want to do is squeeze your eyes shut under the pleasure. “Are you gonna put that pretty little mouth to use?”

You run your tongue over your lips, whimpering as Rhys settles fully inside you, “Mmhhmm,” is all you can manage to get out before he’s guiding you down to his leaking cock.

“Been thinking about this for a long time,” Az whispers. “Always wearing that pretty shade of lipstick that would look so good smeared across my cock.”

You swirl your tongue over his tip again and his hips jerk involuntarily. It’s a greedy sort of satisfaction you get in knowing that you can reduce a thousand year old vampire to this with just your tongue, and you want to see how much farther you can push him. Keeping a hand on his hips for balance, you use the other touch him, tracing a line down the underside of his shaft that has him hissing as the muscles in his abdomen tighten.

Rhys takes as much time sliding out of you as he had sliding in, setting a leisurely pace you know is to help you get comfortable with this setting. As tight as his own muscles are, you know he’s holding back, and you’re grateful for it, as you start to take Azriel in your mouth. It’s going to take time to get used to, you have to focus all your effort into breathing out your nose and slackening your jaw. There’s no way you’re going to be able to fit all of him.

“Just like that,” Az moans, using the hand in your hair to guide you down further.

“Look so pretty like this,” Rhys encourages as he trails soft kisses over your spine. He’s far more gentle with you than a vampire ought to be, and you can’t help but think he might be getting attached to you; a notion that would have sounded absurd weeks ago, but makes your heart stutter a little now.

“Feels so good,” you tell him mind to mind.

He slides back into you with a groan, just a little more forcefully than before, making your head bob down Azriel’s cock until he hits the back of your throat. Az moans louder than someone who is usually so stoic ought to and you have to release him for a second to catch your breath.

He gives you mere seconds before he’s hurriedly pulling you back, groaning like he can’t bear to not have your mouth around him anymore. Rhys sets his pace to match, giving you a rhythm to follow as you get a hand around the parts of Az you can’t get your mouth around.

This is a pleasure you didn’t know you needed; the way they both moan and pant over you has you rocking your hips back into Rhys, your hand pumping a little harder around Az. As much as you want them to ruin you, you want to do the same to them.

Rhys’s fangs scrape over your shoulder, fingers tightening into your hips in a move you know will leave bruises. He’s getting closer to the edge, all his praises whispered in pants against your skin.

Az throws his head back as he hits the back of your throat once, twice, then a third time, the muscles in his abdomen tightening with every thrust.

They’re both so close, you not far behind, especially when Rhys slips his hand between your legs again.

“Fuck,” Az whispers. With his head thrown back like that, eyes pinched shut, muscled body bathed in the moonlight, he looks every bit a god. And if his tongue between your legs counts as worship, then so should this as you take him as deep as you can without gagging, face a mess of spit and pre-cum.

“Gonna cum,” he warns.

Rhys’s thrusts are getting harder, the chair groaning beneath him as he fucks up into you. This is usually where he likes another taste of you, you’re used to the routine of it, ready for him to sink his fangs into your shoulder, though the force of it this time is different, as if he’s losing control, the bite sloppy, teeth scraping against your skin before they push in.

Your whole body tenses at the sensation of a thousand year old vampire losing a bit of his usual control, pleasure building white hot in your core. You want to see him a complete mess one of these days.

It’s your moan around his cock that pushes Azriel quickly over the edge, warm cum spurting in your mouth before he can pull away from you. Azriel, quite, broody Azriel groans and pants as he cums, the sound like music to your ears as you drink him down. His hand still hasn’t left your hair, now scrapping gently against your scalp as you release him with a pop that turns into a squeal as Rhys bites down on your shoulder a second time.

One more thrust, then a second before your own release barrels through you, white hot in the buzz of sensations swirling around your head. Your own release chases Rhys into his and he jerks forward with a cry as he spills inside you.

You fall back against his chest as you come down from your high, body trembling, breath escaping in pants.

Azriel reaches out and wipes a bit of the mess he made on your chin with his thumb, muttering, “Beautiful.”

Still catching his breath, Rhys presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek, and judging by the wetness on his lips you think there might still be some blood on them, but you’re too blissed out to care.

“Did so well,” he praises in your ear, voice still low and husky.

You raise a hand to card your fingers through his hair, eyes drifting shut, beyond satiated. If someone had told you this would have happened because you’d decided to sneak into a party and dance with a stranger, you wouldn’t have believed them in the slightest, but now, it doesn’t matter how long it takes for him to fulfill his end of the bargain. There are new freedoms to be found still, new pleasures to experience. You know things will be different once he turns you, and you’re not ready to feel so different yet. Right now, you like this thing between you. It’s good. Freeing.

“I’m glad I met you,” you admit softly.

“How very human of you to say,” Azriel teases as he fixes his pants. Despite his words, once he’s done, he still leans down to kiss your forehead.

“You like that I’m human,” you counter.

Rhys manages to get you repositioned so he can stand and carry you upstairs to his room, where you know a warm bath will be waiting for the two of you. “That we do, little one,” he purrs. “There’s still so much more to explore before you turn.”

#rhysand x reader #Rhys x reader #Rhys x reader smut #azriel x reader #azriel x reader smut #vamp!rhys #vamp!azriel #Rhys x reader x azriel #acotar fics #Rhys fics #azriel fics #my writing #my fanfiction #smut #poly!batboys #batboys x reader #batboys x reader smut

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idleoblivion · 2 days

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"Yes, Professor" Crewel x GN Reader

Synopsis: The allowance Crowley gives you just isn’t enough. Maybe you can convince your alchemy professor to assist you somehow…

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Literally the first smut I've ever written so I'm so nervous to post this, I don't know what possessed me to write this but here we are lol.

Warnings: Teacher/student relationship, gn reader, shy/nervous reader, semi-public sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, unprotected sex, overuse of the word 'puppy'

You knock on the door to his office three times and hear shuffling for a moment on the other side.

“Come in.”

You open it and take a few steps in before spotting him at his desk. Divus Crewel, your alchemy professor, as he sorts through a stack of what you assume are the lab reports you turned in earlier that day. He stops what he’s doing and motions you to a chair in front of his desk.

“You said you wanted to speak to me, yes? I hope you weren’t lying about it being important.”

You swallowed and tried to straighten your posture as you sat down. “No, I wasn’t. Thank you for meeting with me.”

He looks you over and you feel your resolve weakening. Maybe this really wasn’t a good idea after all.

Crewel meets your eyes expectantly. “Well, what is it then?”

You can barely continue to make eye contact with how tight your chest feels with anxiety. You play with your hands anxiously in your lap. After a few seconds of silence, he continues.

“I don’t have all evening, pup. Tell me what you’re here for, quickly.” His tone became more sharp, prompting you to nervously begin.

“So you know, about my…. um, living situation and uh, money… I, uh, I don’t really have a lot and m-my clothes and uniform are a wreck, and…. and my friends talk about seeing movies and going out but I-“

“Puppy,” he interrupts you, “I am aware of your circumstances. However, I am also aware that the headmaster does supply you a small allowance for food and clothes, even if they may be….” He stops himself from finishing his sentence as he looks at your uniform on you. “Never mind. I won’t lie and say I feel no sympathy for you, but if you’re about to ask me to start funding you as well, the answer is no. I could not allow myself to freely spoil every puppy who is less fortunate in my class.”

“I…well, I-“ you stutter, but will yourself to continue, “I didn’t say it would be for free.” The last part barely comes out as a whisper, but the look on his face tells you he heard it well. You shift in your seat at his change in expression.

“Oh? Well, it still wouldn’t be considered appropriate of me to take bribes or favors from students, but…” he trails off for a moment, and you notice an increasing intensity in his gaze, “I suppose I can hear you out.”

If you were anxious before, you were almost panicky now. You hadn’t expected to actually get this far, for him to actually consider your offer and not just scold or report you, but you couldn’t deny the building excitement inside you either.

“If… if you help me, I’ll, um… well, uh, what would you want me to do?” Struggling to find the confidence yourself, you try to make him spell it out, but he must realize what you’re doing as his smirk only grows.

“I think you had something in mind to offer me, puppy, and if you really want my help you’re going to have to say it.” He stands up and removes his oversized fur coat and lays it on his chair behind him. “That’s an order, from your master. Tell me what you’ll do for me.”

He leans over his desk, looking at you smugly. Part of you wonders if he knew this is where your conversation would head, but you quickly disperse that thought and stand up yourself.

“…Anything. Anything you want, I’ll do it.” You hesitantly step towards his desk and lean in.

He laughs lightly under his breath, then looks back at you.

“We’re just going in circles, aren’t we? Alright, puppy, I’ll be generous today and help you. Come here.”

You walk around the desk to stand in front of him directly. His gloved hand comes up to your face and holds your jaw gently. He leans down some, and speaks to you in a low voice.

“You know, there’s that Al-Asim boy and Kingscholar, among others, who have plenty of wealth to throw around at this school. So, what brought you to my office and not their dorms, puppy? If you can say that, I’ll give you a reward.”

His hand on your face forces you to keep looking at him. You take one more deep breath before quietly answering.

“I…I want you. Not them. You.”

He smiles at that and gives you a quick peck on the forehead. “Good puppy. Now sit on my desk.”

You lift yourself onto his desk and he walks forward, caging you in with his arms. He leans down and kisses you gently at first. Just his lips on yours has your body burning up as you wrap your arms around him. You let him slip his tongue in and he groans into your heated kiss.

“You know,” he pauses and takes a step back, “I think I’ve still let you get your way too easily.” He pulls his desk chair back up and sits down while removing his gloves. “So, be a good puppy and get rid of these.” He grabs and tugs on the pants of your uniform.

You feel your face get even hotter but comply, taking them off with your underwear and tossing them to the floor. You instinctively try and keep your legs shut, but he tsks at you and pries them open.

He bites his lip as he looks at you, then meets your eyes with a predatory look. “Touch yourself for me.”

You begin slowly, nervous and self-conscious under his stare, but the bulge straining against his pants tells you you have no reason to be. You try to look away from him but he calls your attention back immediately.

“Eyes on me. That’s an order.”

You hesitantly obey and fix your gaze back on him. He undoes his belt and frees his cock from his pants. Your hands slow as you watch him intently.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, puppy. Keep going.”

You’re both touching yourselves now, his eyes following every desperate movement of your fingers as you get more and more aroused. Watching him stroke himself to the sight of you adds to your embarrassment and pleasure. You bite your lip to stifle your voice.

“Puppy, you want to me to fuck you?”

You’re ashamed of the whimper you let you out when he says it, but nod vigorously anyway.

“Say it.”

“Yes professor, please fuck me.”

“Stop then. Hold your legs open for me.”

You obey and he walks back over to you. He kisses you again, deep and passionate while he undoes the tie of your uniform and opens your shirt. He gently pulls it off of you before his hands come up to grope your chest.

He pulls your hips closer to the edge, and you can feel him start teasing you with the head of his cock. You bury your face in his shoulder as he starts inching himself into you. You moan feeling yourself stretch for him. He grunted as he bottomed out in you, then held still for a moment.

He pulls you back away from his shoulder to look at you, and smirks at your lustful, blissed out face. He gives you no further warning before he starts moving, feeling you clutch onto him as he thrusts.

You can no longer stop yourself from moaning loudly, with how deep he feels inside you and him nipping at your neck while his hips never slow or stop, he fucks you steady and hard.

“Look at you, getting so loud. Is it good, puppy? You like it?”

“Ah- yes, yes professor, so good I-“

You nearly squeal as a particular thrust leaves you reeling, and he moans as he feels you tighten around him. He sped up, fucking you faster and harder until you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

“Crying for me, puppy?” He smiled and licked a tear that had fallen down your cheek. The pressure building inside you was getting to be too much.

“Professor, p-professor I’m-“ you gasped as he bit you on the shoulder and grabbed your hips roughly.

“Cum for me, puppy. You can do it, be good for me.”

With a wail, your orgasm hit you hard, making you keel over and grab onto Crewel for support. Your body was on fire and he didn’t stop for a moment, he just kept holding your hips with a tight grip you while he pounded into you harshly. He cursed under his breath, praising you in your ear as he chased his own release.

“Fuck puppy I’m close, take it, fuck-“

He finally releases and you feel his cock twitch as he cums inside you. The warm feeling has you softly moan again, despite how absolutely exhausted your body was.

You both took a few moments to finish coming down from your highs. He makes you look at him again, and smirks at how fucked out you look.

“So, we’ll get you some new clothes this weekend, puppy? That sound good?”

You tiredly nod, and he kisses you again.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #divus crewel #twst crewel #twst x gn reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst divus

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green-eyedfirework · 2 days

Text

It started with the Morino contract.

No. That was a lie. It really started—not really really, that was the time Nightwing leaned up when Slade was pinning him to the wall and grinned, soft and slow and wicked, and Slade had growled don’t be a tease and Nightwing murmured who said I’m teasing and Slade had half-thought it was a trap, but no, apparently Nightwing’s taste in people that could overpower him ran to villains too—with a lazy morning in Dick’s apartment in Bludhaven.

Slade had been making breakfast, idly watching Dick walk around in a too-big shirt and nothing else, when Dick had gotten a phone call. The lazy mornings were...he didn’t want to say content, but after the third time Dick asked him to stay for breakfast, blue eyes sleepy but bright, and clarified that he wasn’t making it a Thing, Jesus Christ, Slade, I’m not trapping you into a promise ring, it’s just food—they were peaceful. The kid wasn’t a half-bad cook, he definitely didn’t believe in covering clothes, and sometimes Slade even got another fuck before he headed out.

Dick ended his phone call and came back into the kitchen, giving him a wry smile. “You’re going to have to leave. B will be here in ten minutes.”

Slade raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the cooking hashbrown.

“Don’t be a baby, you can make some more. Or just buy some.” Dick had grabbed his arm and was tugging him out of the kitchen. “What you definitely don’t want is to still be here when Bruce shows up.”

Slade allowed himself to be pulled out, casting a last glance at his hashbrown. “Don’t tell me you’re ashamed of me.”

“Ha. There are several things that Bruce should never know, and that I’m fucking Deathstroke the Terminator is one of them. Shoo.”

“Rude.”

“I’m sorry, do you want Batman on your ass? No? Then I’ll see you later, Slade. And thanks for breakfast!”

“You’re a brat,” Slade collected his stuff—he hadn’t come to Bludhaven for business, so there was only one gun and a couple of knives to grab—and headed for the window. “And I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because I’m flexible,” Dick grinned at him as he shimmied into a pair of leggings, as delightfully shameless as always, and Slade allowed himself one last look at that ass before leaving.

He didn’t understand the twisting feeling in his stomach.

Dick had done nothing wrong aside from stealing his breakfast, Slade had absolutely no desire to meet Batman, and Slade had just as unceremoniously kicked Dick out from his own safehouses.

It was nothing. He was just hungry. He hunted down food, and put it out of his head.

Until the Morino contract.

Slade didn’t usually take assassination contracts in Bludhaven—best not to rock that particular boat—but he’d followed Morino down from New York City, and he wasn’t going to wait for him to leave just to put a bullet in his head. Besides, the way his luck went, Morino would end up fleeing to Gotham, and Slade was not dealing with the Bats.

The setup was easy—he took position, unpacked and assembled his rifle, waited. And took the shot.

He was halfway through disassembly when he heard the whine of a grapple.

“You chased someone into my city,” Nightwing was stalking forward, all furious lines, “to kill them?!”

Slade made a show of glancing around. “I don’t see your name on it,” he said dryly, palming his knives as he rose up.

“Real cute,” Nightwing snarled, slipping his escrima free.

“Next time I’ll take them outside city limits to spare your delicate sensibilities,” Slade drawled.

Nightwing growled and lunged, Slade met his attack, and the familiar motions of a fight began. Just when Slade was starting to suspect that Nightwing was actually pissed and this fight wasn’t foreplay, Nightwing made an inarticulate sound and practically smashed their faces together, kissing Slade like he was trying to devour him.

That, Slade could get behind, and he let the niggling question go as he matched Nightwing’s intensity.

~#~

Slade slipped out before Dick woke up—not an unusual occurrence, but certainly rarer over the past few months—and told himself it was because he didn’t want to deal with Nightwing’s whining over Slade killing someone in his city.

~#~

It was a lot harder to excuse his avoidance of Bludhaven. He rationalized it by saying he was giving Dick time to cool down—except Dick had made no indication of being angry after the fight, he’d cuddled up to Slade without only a sleepy yawn after the fuck, and Slade wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so uncertain with the state of their relationship.

They had sex. Great sex. Sleeping afterwards, well, that was just comfortable, and breakfast in the morning was a bonus. Their respective jobs had never gotten in the way before—Dick hadn’t made any mention of ground rules outside of sex, didn’t care. It was just sex.

He could almost see Wintergreen’s raised eyebrow when he kept passing up contracts on the Eastern Seaboard.

#my snippets #sladick #slade catches feelings first #he wants a refund

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strawberrymochin · 13 hours

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Sukuna's obsession with you would be so obnoxious that you would be regretting your life decisions.

He sees you for the first time after he's done battling (killing) some random sorcerers for fun, roaming around bloodthirsty for next target.

You were on your way back home from the late night shift from your work. That's when you noticed him. Blood dripping out from a small cut on his right cheek was what drew your attention, walking straight up to him, offering him a bandaid insisting he's hurt.

Sukuna initially planned to kill you but before he could act upon his devious intentions, you were there babbling on how he should treat his cut right away or it would result in infections and so and so.

He stilled, watching your every move skeptically.

If it were some other person, he or she would have given a damn run to Olympics for their life, though it would turn out useless as one swift motion of his finger would slice once's body similar to a piece of fruit.

You, however, seemed to have no such care. "Your tattoos are cute! Where did you get them done?"

Sukuna didn't answer. He just kept staring at you. Feeling awkward you excuse yourself, forgetting about this incident the next day.

And that's how you got yourself kidnapped the second time he sees you when you went out to run errands, humming to yourself scanning a box of strawberries.

He would try several methods to impress you. And one of those several methods includes treating you good food and that's how a freshly prepped human hand by uraume was served to you.

"do I seem like a cannibal to you?" You ask frustrated. First of all you didn't get to watch your favourite Netflix series you planned to watch after running errands that day. And now that he did kidnapped you at least he could treat you with some hospitality.

"you don't like it? humans have peculiar taste buds! You could give it a try though it's good...." Says sukuna in a monotonous voice. Uraume nods at his words.

"are you really king of curses or so? I thought that was just a mere myth—" the hand uraume served to you slit into two pieces as he gestured his finger in a certain way, making you gulp "it's not a myth I understand." Better not to agitate him much you never know when you end up like that hand on his plate. Shivers ran down your spine on this thought.

"what do you humans prefer to eat then?" He asks, dragging your plate to him, munching on one finger.

"ahh— umm...normal staple food would be enough...."

"mhmm kk"

"btw, if you don't mind can I ask you a question?"

"go ahead..."

"whose hand is that?"

"oh it's the guy you were talking to in that store."

"......"

Later that evening a box of strawberries was delivered to you by uraume, saying sukuna wanted you to have those. You thank her awkwardly.

The king of curses is kinda cute, you thought, even though not being able to shrug off the thought of the staff guy you consulted with in the store being dead because of — nvm.

You do regret your life decisions, but maybe not too much.

Though sukuna would never accept that he's heads over heels for you, uraume and others could sense the subtle change in his behaviour around you.

Considering he himself brought those strawberries for you.

A/n- sukuna in his vessel mode; I don't know what the heck I wrote...

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deedeeznoots · 1 day

Text

Let’s Go to Malaysia, Yeah?

Characters: Nanami Kento, Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Content Warnings: It’s smut so MDNI!! Specifically: Slight voyeurism (there’s no people around but you’re both outside), Oral (reader receiving), PiV, Creampie, Use of the word “wife” a lot, angst at the end because I don’t believe in happiness

A/N: I thought about this on a random Thursday night at 1 AM and couldn’t rest until I wrote it into existence.

Synopsis: You and your husband Kento Nanami go on a beach trip in Malaysia and have some fun in more ways than one~

MINORS ONCE AGAIN PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

The sound of chirping birds and ocean waves wake you up from your slumber. Still groggy, you instinctively reach for Nanami, but the bed comes out empty. Rubbing your eyes, your vision lands on the open windows, the sun slightly blinding you from the view. Though it would be nearly impossible to miss completely, the bright yellow sand standing in contrast to the deep blue ocean was a sight to see. Turns out, renting a small house by the beach in Malaysia was an amazing idea, something your husband came up with. Speaking of…where was he?

Hearing some commotion from outside the bedroom, you put on your robe and leave to follow the source. There, you find your beautiful husband making breakfast in the kitchen. Shirtless, the morning sun reflects off his back as he cuts up fruit. God he looked good, you thought.

Moving quietly, you swiftly hugged him from behind. He jumps up a little in shock before going “Good morning, darling”.

You giggle at his reaction and simply go “Hi Kento...” and leave small kisses on his back as he continues cutting fruit. Eventually, he drops the knife and turns around, looking you straight in the eyes.

“…yes?” You question jokingly. He doesn’t say anything, only giving you a small kiss on your lips. You had other plans though, and grabbed a hold at the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. Nanami groans in response, but doesn’t protest, lifting you up and placing you on top of the counter. As he slowly grinds himself between your legs, you joke “it’s so early…”. Your husband simply laughs and says “it’s never too early for my wife…”. As your tongues continue to intertwine, you begin to remove his pants when—

Ding

The toaster. The sound snaps Nanami out of what he was doing and he begins to remember his original plans for the kitchen. Lifting you up again, this time to help bring you back down to the floor, he tells you “Let’s not waste breakfast” with a laugh.

Somewhat disappointed, you comply anyway as you were a little hungry and Nanami did work hard to prepare it for you two. Sitting on the table, Nanami puts down a plate of toast and syrup with a side of fruit. You weren’t sure if it was because it was made by someone you loved, but it was possibly the most delicious meal you ever had. The bread was perfectly toasted, with the syrup acting in perfect juxtaposition to the crunchy exterior of the toast. The fruit was no joke either, perfectly cut into symmetrical shapes and acting as the perfect side to your meal. God, it was amazing. Your husband was amazing.

“…Baby are you listening?” Nanami’s voice snaps you out of your daydreams. “Huh…?” You ask, staring at him blankly. Shaking your head, you go “Oh… I’m sorry honey haha I was too focused on this amazing breakfast”, your voice slightly muffled from the food in your mouth. Your husband just laughs and goes “I was just asking if you wanted me to bring anything while we go on our walk”.

“Oh! Let’s bring the chairs so we can watch the ocean for a bit” you say, excited. Nanami nods and you two continue making small talk over breakfast regarding your plans for the day, enjoying each other’s presence along with the beach view through the large window in the living room.

“Man, that was a good breakfast! Thank you so much for that… you’re getting really good at making bread by the way” you say as the both of you walk around the beach. “Thank you, anything for my wife” Nanami chuckles, of course. Your husband always told you he’d give you the world, and you believe him. Why wouldn’t you? He shows you every day, and this day was certainly no exception.

The sand is hot against your feet as you and your partner find a place to set your chairs. Looking around, you point to an empty spot close to the ocean “what about there?” you ask. Nanami just nods and takes your hand to walk you both to the spot. You set both your chairs down as Nanami puts up the umbrella for both of you. He also offers to help you put on your sunscreen.

“Sure! Let me just go get it” you respond.

It started out innocent enough. You feel the slight cool of the sunscreen as your husband rubs the cream onto your skin. He started with your arms, being oh so diligent to make sure your skin was fully protected. He started again with your back, once again not missing a single spot. Once he got to your shoulders, however… that was a different story. Something about it felt more…sensual, and both of you felt the change in mood.

While rubbing the sunscreen on your shoulders, Nanami decided to begin kissing your neck. The warm kisses sent a cold shiver down your spine and you jumped up. “H-h-hey! What are you doing?” you ask, shocked. Your dutiful husband simply hums into your neck and continues kissing your most sensitive spots. Once the initial shock smoothed over, you got more into it. Leaning into his soft kisses and letting out soft moans as he continuously abused your neck. Not too much though, you were in public after all.

Well…kind of. See, one of the main draws of picking this specific spot to go to was because of how far it was from the public area. There was likely no people for miles, making it the perfect spot for you and your introverted lover to do all kinds of fun (in lots of different ways, of course). Still, anyone could theoretically walk to this side of the beach with no issue, but why would they? There was clearly nothing to see here.

Except I guess…a man in between his wife’s legs eating her out like she’s his last meal. “K-Kento! We’re in public!” you yelp out in between (now much louder) moans. “Shhh… it’s okay” he shushes, the vibrations of which are felt on your pussy, causing you to moan louder. “N-ngh, God— don’t stop!” you moan out, which simply makes your lover laugh. Pulling away, with only a string of his saliva working to connect the two of you, he goes “Careful honey, we are in public, remember?”. Frustrated, you grab him by his hair and lightly push him back between your legs. You were careful not to actually hurt him, of course, and you thankfully didn’t receive any complaints from him, as he simply goes back to looking up at you while sucking on your clit, at the corner of your eye, you can see the sunscreen, now carelessly tossed to the side.

Right. This started with sunscreen. What happened with that?

Right… after finishing lathering your shoulders he began getting to work on your legs. You were still lightheaded from having his lips on your neck, so you didn’t pay much attention while he continued rubbing the lotion on you. At one point though, he suddenly stopped. Confused, you’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he hushes you with a soft kiss. You comply, and are so zoned out that you don’t even notice Nanami beginning to remove the bottom half of the bathing suit you put on. “…May I?” he asks for your permission with his soft voice. Unable to deny him in the state you’re in, you nod. From there, he began kissing down your body. From your shoulders, to your breasts, to your stomach until finally, he made it there.

Which leads you back to the predicament you’re in now: where you’re a moaning mess as your husband makes out with your pussy. Like always, Nanami is diligent. Making sure to catch all your sweet spots and to pay extra mind to your clit. He worked slowly, but don’t worry, he was definitely getting the job done. “P-p-please…I’m close, I’m so close please Kento please”, you spit out through incoherent moans. Nanami doesn’t say anything, he simply flattens his tongue against your clit as your orgasm continues to build up. When you finally get there after a few seconds of riding Nanami’s tongue, you’re only able to see white for a while. Breathing heavily, your legs begin to tremble as you zone out, staring wide-eyed into space.

Nanami is seemingly unfazed, however, as he simply pulls your swimsuit back up and gives you a chaste kiss on the lips, allowing you to taste a bit of yourself. He holds your hand tight and says “Let’s rest for a bit and then let’s go swim, ok?” He smiles innocently, as if he didn’t just give you the best orgasm of your life just a minute before. Slowly snapping back into reality, you kiss your husband’s hand and go “o-ok…”, still out of breath from what just occurred. Nanami let you take your time to cool down, showering you in affirmations of how beautiful you were and how he was sorry but simply couldn’t resist you.

Eventually, you’re able to calm down enough to make your way to the ocean. Your legs still wobbly, you’re the perfect target for splashing. The cold water hitting your skin as your lover cruelly splashes water on you “Kentoooo…stop it! Haha!” You laugh as you splash him back, getting his hair wet. Getting serious for a second, he simply mutters “You’ll pay for that, darling”, before swiftly picking you up and spinning you around. Letting out a goofy scream, you go “Baby wait— you’re gonna drop me! Haha!”. To your surprise, he actually does drop you in the water. You were fine with this, as this gave you leverage to grab onto his leg and pull him down with you. Letting out a yelp, he lets out a hearty laugh as he falls into the water with a splash. “I win! Jerk!” you say in between laughs.

Though, he simply goes quiet and looks deep in your eyes. He lightly grabs your face and gives you a deep kiss. Pulling away, he whispers a soft “I love you”. Flushed, you’re about to say you love him back when you feel another cold splash against your face right and your husband’s laughter “…but you’re so cute when you’re mad!” He exclaims, standing up. “Hey! No fair! We were supposed to have a sweet moment!” You yell out as you climb up his back, forcing him to give you a piggyback ride. One he complies to, of course.

After having your fun, the both of you dry yourselves off outside before going back to your small vacation home. “I’m going to catch up on some reading darling, there’s some books I really need to finish”, Nanami tells you as he starts to enter the room. “Alright, I’m just gonna take a shower and then I’ll join you” you respond. He nods as he closes the door behind him. You had other plans, of course.

You were going to join him.

Though…it wasn’t going to be for reading. You still had to pay him back for his stunt at the beach, after all…

After your short shower, you enter the shared bedroom of you and Nanami. There was nothing out of the ordinary, except for the fact that you were wearing nothing but a towel.

“Darling…” your husband looks up, taking off his glasses. “Aren’t you going to put some clothes on?” He asks, but you could feel it in his voice, he was getting riled up. You got him right where you wanted him.

“Hmmm…I don’t know darling,” you say, teasing him “I think I like things exactly like this”, as you finish your sentence, you drop your towel, showing off your naked body to Nanami. You climb on top of him and sit on his lap. He was hard. Why wouldn’t he be? His gorgeous wife was sitting naked on top of him. He simply smiled as you brought your face closer to his, your lips nearly touching. “While I appreciate the sentiment darling…” Nanami grabs your wrists as he flips you over on the bed “…it seems you forgot who’s in charge here”. He now stood on top of you, his large frame hovering above you as he brought himself closer to kiss you. Finally, your lips touch and the both of you get to work removing all of Nanami’s pesky clothes. You were thankfully already taken care of, so things were much easier.

Finally fully naked, Nanami lines himself up against you “I’m sorry baby…” he starts, “I know we usually do foreplay first but I need to be inside of you right now”. His dick is in perfect alignment with your pussy, where even through the smallest movement by you, you could have him inside. You’re just as desperate for him as he is for you, so you just nod and go “it’s okay… I’m already wet enough for you, see?” you say as you dip your fingers into your pussy before pulling out, showing Nanami proof of your arousal. He simply exhales a sigh of relief as he begins to enter you. Starting slowly, as to not hurt you, he starts with shallow thrusts until he’s all the way in.

Finally inside, he picks up the pace, looking you in the eyes the whole time. “God— you’re gorgeous you know?” he says in between thrusts, though you’re too fucked out on his cock to be able to pay much attention. You simply moan as you’re forced to take his dick over and over again. This makes him stop, and he looks at you. Before you can ask him why, he goes “Say it, darling”. “Say wha—“ you are cut off, “Say you’re gorgeous”.

“That—that’s so embarrassing Kento…” you reply. It did make you feel a bit shy to say affirmations with a dick inside of you, but Nanami didn’t budge, he simply kept looking at you until you said the words. “Okay…I’m gorgeous, the only one for you” you smile, it did feel good to say, but Nanami’s thick cock thrusting in and out of you right after you said it probably helped in that regard.

You began to feel the pit in your stomach grow, and you knew exactly what it meant “K…Kento… I’m gonna cum…” you moan out. Nanami softly kisses your wrists in response and says “yeah…me too darling, let’s finish together, yeah?”.

You both do just that, moans and grunts filling the room as you both reach your high. “I love you baby… I love you so much” Nanami moans out as he kisses you through your orgasms.

After you’ve both calmed down, Nanami pulls out and lays next to you. “Come here, darling~” he coos, pulling you towards him for cuddles. “I meant it you know, when I said you were gorgeous…you should say it to yourself more often” he whispers in your ear. You simply smile and give him a kiss on the cheek “Yeah…I’ll make sure to try. I love you baby…” your eyes meet his, and it’s almost like you can see the whole world through only his eyes. He gives you a deep kiss and as he caresses you to sleep he goes “I love you too, my beautiful wife”.

You groggily wake up to the walls of your room, a very different sight to the vacation home you were just in. It’s dark, with no windows open, and if you opened them, you likely wouldn’t be greeted to the soft waves of the ocean. What just happened? You think. Was I dreaming?

You instinctively reach for your husband’s side of the bed. It’s empty, of course. Still groggy and with possibly the worst headache of your life, you get up and make your way to the kitchen.

You make your own breakfast. A sad combination of stale cereal and milk.

It’s the reality of course, but one you’re still unable to accept. In this reality, there is no beach view, there is no cold ocean to splash in, there are no birds to wake you up, and most importantly there is no Nanami.

What is there though…are two tickets to Malaysia. Looking at them, the dates stand there bold, almost as if to mock you… spelling out the day you’ll forever hate the most.

NOV. 1ST, 2018

Yeah…that’s right.

You two were never able to make it to that trip, were you?

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