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sarahowritesostucky · 7 days

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📖"Blood Moon Rising" pt 6

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: shrinkyclinks, prison au, werewolf au, omega Steve, Alpha Bucky, dub-con, non-con, werewolf sex, knotting, oral (m!rec), hand jobs, held hostage, age gap (40/26), forced mating, violence, bonding, Dom/sub elements

Summary: Steve gets a lot more than he bargained for when a prison riot breaks out and he becomes the captive of an Alpha werewolf.

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter! Fic Masterlist

Part 6 - "In Shades of Purple"

After learning so much new information in the Yurt, Steve needed to get some air. He needed time to process, and maybe think of a last minute escape plan (though none was forthcoming).

He went for a walk along the outskirts of the camp, trying to clear his head. At first he thought he was alone, but then he noticed a rustling from the nearby woods. He looked over, thinking that it was probably a squirrel, and was surprised to see a wolf peeking at him through a bush. With all of Steve’s varied escape attempts thus far, by now he knew that werewolves were more than capable of treading silently in the forest and pouncing without ever being noticed by their prey. If Steve had heard this one’s approach, it was because the wolf wanted him to.

The wolf stepped closer, revealing itself from around the foliage, and Steve’s shoulders relaxed. There were only a couple of pack members whom he recognized by sight in their shifted forms. Most of them tended to be a combination of dull grey and brown, black and white, but Wanda’s fur was almost the same color as her actual hair. “Oh,” Steve said as the wolf walked over. “Oh. Hi Wanda.” He felt so weird speaking normally to her, but he’d been told that the wolves could understand speech just fine in their animal forms, so … “Erm, how’s it going?”

The wolf stepped up close and nudged Steve’s hand with her snoot in a silent greeting.

“I was just taking a walk.” He indicated the treeline he’d been following. “To clear my head. Try and figure out what I’m gonna do about … about tonight.”

Wanda chuffed and shot him what could only be interpreted as a look of judgemental incredulity, making Steve feel stupid.

“Yeah,” he agreed glumly, because what could he really do? Run away again? Commit suicide? Kill Bucky? He had zero interest in any of those options. Running away would only mean getting his slippery ass caught in record time (humiliating), offing himself was cowardice and too dramatic for the circumstances besides (lame), and killing Bucky was, well …

Steve bit his lip. Killing Bucky would just be setting himself up for attack from the rest of the pack. It was beyond dangerous. And even if it weren’t, even if he could somehow magically stab Bucky in the neck and not have to worry about 200+ other werewolves coming after him, he still wouldn’t want to do it.

Of course he’d thought about murdering Bucky—numerous times, usually envisioning some scenario involving killing the alpha while he slept. Unfortunately, Steve couldn’t seriously contemplate such things for more than a minute or two before he’d begin to feel awful and discard the idea. Bucky might be a lot of things, but he hadn’t been cruel to Steve. Not once. Not since the Blowjob From Hell, back at the prison, leastways. Even back then, Bucky had only been doing what he felt he had to, in order to protect Steve from the other alphas in the pack.

And sharing a cabin and a bed with someone and letting them jerk you off night after night, week after week sure as shit didn’t make the idea of murder any more palatable. Bucky wasn’t a monster. He hadn’t treated Steve poorly (other than, ya know, kidnapping and holding him hostage), and he’d clearly ordered the other alphas in the pack to leave Steve alone, as nobody had since bothered Steve beyond scooping him up from his various escape attempts and depositing him back at Bucky’s doorstep. Even the men who’d been the scariest, most aggressive, and most challenging of Bucky’s leadership back at the prison—Drax, Batroc, Killmonger—had respected Bucky’s wishes regarding Steve. And Steve was under no delusion that, if it weren’t for the pack Lupului having laid down the law on who was allowed to touch Steve, then a lot more people would’ve been, by now.

Bucky was undeniably dangerous. He could be ruthless and brutal, taciturn and grumpy, and he was hella rough around the edges. But that didn’t mean he was bad. Now Steve had seen him as a provider, a protector, and a leader; and along with his shredded body and his handsome fucking face, all that together was a damned tempting package.

Yes, Steve was attracted to him. And yeah, his body reacted to the alpha in a powerful, instinctual way. He could admit that now, even though he’d been scared shitless of the guy in the beginning. His whole life, Steve had always been a real believe-in-the-system, do-the-right-thing sort of guy; somebody who would’ve never considered getting involved with an ex-felon, or aiding and abetting a bunch of escapees from a federal prison. And yet here he was, fully not intending to alert the authorities even if by some miracle he did escape.

Here he was, considering just how upset he was over the fact that he was about to be forcefully mated to one. The answer was: not as upset as he should be.

He groaned in frustration and looked down at Wanda, who was still walking right by his side. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Wanda blinked her big, wolfy eyes at him and tilted her head curiously.

“It makes no sense that I like him. Or that I’m not trying harder to run away right now.” Steve smacked at a branch of underbrush as they edged along the woods. “He’s awful. It’s awful that I’m even here at all. I don’t belong here.”

Wanda whined and bumped her body into his leg as they walked, and somehow Steve knew what that meant: She was reminding him of all the good times he’d had with the pack since his arrival.

“Well you didn’t see how he treated me at the prison,” Steve defended. “And he hasn’t exactly been invested in obtaining my consent for most things.” He bit his tongue as he thought about how Bucky had never once asked for permission to touch him … but also how Steve himself had almost never said ‘no’ to those advances when they happened. Was it really inevitable that it’d ended up this way? Or had he just not tried hard enough?

Having someone who looked like Bucky and smelled like Bucky and acted like Bucky around him for so long, pressuring him into a relationship, telling him without words that he wanted him as his mate and mother to his pups … well that kind of stuff built up over time. Even the act of running away had been getting harder each time Steve attempted it—not because he didn’t think he deserved to get out of there, but because he hated the hurt that would flash across Bucky’s face each time he was dragged back and dumped in front of him.

Steve smacked another branch, and that was when Wanda became animated, nudging Steve’s leg with her nose. He took it as a cue to give her scritches behind her ears, but she only shook him off and started grabbing at his hand lightly with her teeth. “Hey!” Steve laughed, pulling his hand back. “What’re you doing?”

She nudged up behind his legs, urging him into the woods, and Steve got the picture that she was trying to lead him somewhere. So he started following. “Where are we going?” he asked her, amused, following along for a few minutes until they reached a dense thicket in a part of the woods Steve had never seen before. Wanda yapped at him once, ducking her head as if to say “Are you paying attention?” Then she went to her belly and began to crawl through a small pass at the base of the thicket.

Steve scoffed. “I’m not going in there.”

Wanda whined and kept crawling, so Steve rolled his eyes and got to his elbows and knees and began crawling in her wake. “This better be good,” he huffed as he pushed past a few thorned branches that caught against his hair and his shirt. “Jeez.”

On the other side of the pass, there was a small grassy area, no bigger than one of the cells back at the prison. It was chock full of a tall, purple flowered plant.

Steve stood up and brushed the dirt from the knees of his pants. “What? We’re going flower picking for the big event?” he looked at Wanda peevishly. “No thanks. I’m not a blushing bride. I don’t need a bouquet.”

Wanda chuffed and shook her head in a decidedly un-wolflike way, and Steve paused with a frown. “Well what then?”

She padded to the edge of where the tall flowers grew and pawed at the leafy bases of the plants. She nudged her head at them as if to say, “Here, stupid.”

Steve frowned. “I don’t understand.” He walked over and touched the flowers. They were pretty: purple and bell-shaped. “What is this?” he murmured, reaching out to touch one of the blooms. “Foxglove?” It had that look about it.

But Wanda growled and shook her head again, and she closed her mouth on one of the plants and pulled, tearing the flower stalk off. She immediately dropped it and moved her tongue in her mouth like a dog with peanut butter stuck in its gums, her pointy little front teeth showing as she sneezed in displeasure.

Steve briefly snickered, before he paused as a crazy thought occurred to him. “Wait a minute. Is that …?” He stepped forward and bent to pick up the stalk that Wanda had pulled. He held it up to his face with a frown. There was only one flower in the world he’d ever heard of in reference to werewolves. “Wanda, is this … this isn’t wolfsbane?” he whispered. “Is it?”

Wanda immediately barked and stomped her front feet in enthusiasm, and Steve looked at her in astonishment.

“The fuck? You want me to kill him?”

Again, Wanda huffed and shook her head no.

Steve looked between her and the patch of flowers, and back to her again. “Well what then?”

Once more, Wanda growled impatiently and went up to grab another stalk and rip it clean off the plant. She dropped it, sneezed, and repeated the peanut butter tongue thing. Steve didn’t understand what on earth she intended for him to do with it, but she was definitely telling him to pick it, growling and fake-snapping at him to urge him on so that she didn’t have to pull any more of the flowers with her mouth.

He might not understand the plan, but Steve’s heart leapt as he did realize one thing; and that was that someway, somehow, Wanda was trying to help him escape.

“Are you nuts?” Darcy said, right after she shifted back to skin and Steve’s eyes all but bugged out of his head at seeing his first, full-body werewolf shift.

“Oh.” He averted his eyes, but it was too late. He’d seen, well, everything.

Darcy stomped back to her bedroom—ostensibly to put on some clothes. Steve hoped. A moment later she returned, dressed in leggings and a tee shirt. She pointed at Wanda and said, “You’re nuts.”

“What? What’d she say?” Steve leaned forward anxiously where he was sitting at the kitchen table, right where they’d dumped the large clump of purple flowered stalks. “I already told her I don’t want to murder anybody!”

Darcy scoffed and came over, sitting down on the opposite side of the table from him. “No. She’s got it in her head that you can drug everybody at the bonfire. Put it in the harvest wine and zonk everybody out long enough for you to make a getaway.”

Steve’s breath stuttered in his chest. “I can?” He looked over at Wanda, who was lying by the woodstove and chewing on the entrails of the squirrel she’d caught for herself on their walk back to Darcy’s cabin. “We can? That’s something we can do?!”

Darcy scowled and rapped her knuckles on the table. “Hello, Earth to Steve. No you can’t do that. How would you even get it in the wine? Everybody’s eyes are gonna be on you tonight. You won’t have a second on your own to—”

At the stove, Wanda whined, and Steve looked over at her. She was staring straight at Darcy with a meaningful look. Steve’s heart leapt as he thought the same thing. “Yeah. Darcy: You could do it!”

“What? No!”

“Yes! Yes you can. You have to!” Steve reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Please? I don’t how much to put in, and like you said: I won’t get the chance. But you could do it when everybody’s distracted by the celebrations!” He looked at her with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, Darce? This is my only chance. Please help me.”

Darcy complained and angsted over it, but Wanda came over and had a non-verbal conversation with her, which culminated in Darcy’s shoulders dropping and Wanda affectionately head-butting her leg. Darcy huffed in defeat, and Steve’s spirits soared. “So you’ll do it?!” he asked. “You’ll help?”

“Help you drug my entire pack on the night of a blood moon.” Darcy groaned. “Fuck. We’ll be in so much trouble if Alpha Barnes ever figures out who did it.”

Steve figured that was as good of a ‘yes’ as he was going to get, and he slapped the tabletop, unable to contain his excitement. “Thank you!”

Darcy glared at him. “Don’t thank me yet. There’s only one person I know who’s got the access we need to the harvest wine. And he could still turn us in.”

“Who?”

“Are you serious?” Peter whispered, wide-eyed as Steve took the lid off the basket and showed him the purple flowers they wanted him to lace the wine with. Darcy had just told him their plan, and now Peter would either turn them in, or help them. “Ohmygod you are. You’re actually friggin’ serious!”

Fuck, Steve thought. He’s gonna turn us in.

“Dude, I’m so in. This is crazy!”

Oh, Steve thought. Okay then. That was easy.

By dusk, the plan was underway. Peter had briefly shifted so he could wolf-talk with Wanda, who told him precisely how much wolfsbane to steep in the wine to knock the pack out but not harm them. Then Peter shifted back and got to work, whilst Steve, Wanda, and Darcy went about their business as usual.

Or, well—as usual as they could manage. Steve was excited, but he felt a creeping sense of dread as the day wore on into late afternoon, and then into early evening; as the village became more and more alive with activity and the pack started to gather in the clearing where the bonfire was being held.

People were bringing out folding chairs and blankets and food like it was the damn fourth of July. Steve would’ve felt more intimidated or embarrassed if he didn’t already know that the excitement wasn’t truly all about him and Bucky. It was a communal sort of excitement, an excitement for the pack Alpha having found his mate, which forebode stability and progress for the pack as a whole. Mating runs were a big deal in this community, warranting late-into-the-night revelry and partying, and with the significance of the blood moon on top of that, the entire village was bound to be out celebrating. Apparently, once Bucky caught Steve and dragged him back (yikes) then the entire pack would shift and run together.

Steve was ushered into the omega yurt, where he was prepared like a lily-white bride on her wedding night. He had to shower with special soaps, then dress in a flimsy white robe that wrapped around and barely reached halfway down his shins. Darcy and Nakia shoved him down into one of the beanbag chairs and rubbed the purple paste all over him. Steve scowled at the robe—a reminder that he was going to have to be naked for this event in front of the entire pack.

Not for long, he consoled himself. By the time the run was announced and Steve sent off with his head start, everyone in the pack should be well on their way to conking out. Even the alphas. Peter was on strict instructions from Wanda to time the bringing out of the wolfsbane-laced wine exactly thirty minutes before the beginning of the mating run. Luckily for Steve, since this was also the night of the blood moon—a night of great cultural significance—they could count on every adult member of the pack drinking the Harvest wine.

The pups of the pack weren’t anything they had to worry about. Wanda, who had the excuse of abstaining due to being pregnant and gestationally shifted, would look after the kids while the others slept off the drugged stupor. And while she wasn't in on the plan, Darcy had assured Steve that Jane - who was also pregnant and wouldn't be drinking - would help contain the pups once everybody started dropping like flies. Darcy and Peter would wait until the alphas started passing out, and then they too would drink the wine for real, to avoid any suspicion that they’d been involved.

It wouldn’t be easy. There would be a lot of terrain for Steve to cross in bare feet, miles to go before he reached the beginnings of civilization. He’d need to move quickly if he wanted to get down the mountain and to the nearest town before the wolves started to stir again. It was a risky plan, but it was the only plan he had.

It was a good plan, he kept trying to reassure himself. There was no way it could go wrong. It would work. It would work. It would.

Fuck, he was nervous.

In the yurt where he was being prepared like a damn sacrificial lamb, Nakia noticed his mood, and seemed to interpret it as the normal nerves of a bride-to-be. “Don’t be afraid,” she encouraged him with a smile, as she worked the Wakandan paste into the soles of his feet and in-between his toes. “This is exciting! It will be fun.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed, her smile not quite reaching her eyes every time they flicked up to Steve’s face. “Alpha Barnes is a good man. He’ll make an excellent mate.”

Steve nodded along nervously, aware that she had to pretend to be just as on-board with the run as everybody else was. Even though he knew that they had a plan brewing—literally brewing—to help him escape, he still couldn’t calm himself down from his jitters very well. He’d avoided thinking about the run as much as possible ever since he’d first learned about what would happen: chased naked through the woods, with a purely ceremonial head-start, then tackled by a humongous werewolf, who would fuck him and bite him (hopefully having shifted back to human somewhere in the interim, but Steve hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask anybody about that little detail).

“It’s a big deal when a pack Alpha finds his mate,” Darcy said, where she was sitting beside Steve and rubbing the paste into his palm. “The Lupului of the Haită getting married doesn’t happen often. Once or twice in a generation. Last time was when I was just a pup, when Alpha Batroc came over with his pack from France.”

“Batroc?” Steve frowned. “You mean that asshole who’s always challenging Bucky’s leadership?”

“No, the asshole’s father.” Darcy rolled her eyes and moved around to do his other hand. “Apparently in some European packs, the title of Alpha is passed down hereditarily.”

“But not here,” Steve muttered, because he remembered what little Bucky had told him about being Alpha of this pack. How power was earned; borne of competence, brutality, and natural dominance. “Hard won and hard kept,” he recited, recalling what Bucky had said.

“Yeah.” Darcy met his eyes while Nakia was busying herself down at his feet. “Things weren’t always so nice for us, before Barnes. He challenged for pack Alpha when Batroc Senior died. There were fights, but he won.”

Steve nodded and tried not to worry about what would happen to the pack once they all woke up from being drugged and realized Bucky had lost his omega. Steve hoped it wouldn’t cause conflict, but from what little he knew of wolf nature and pack structure, it very well might. “He’s a good Alpha for you guys?” he asked quietly.

On his hand, Darcy gave a comforting squeeze, and Steve looked up at her. “Yeah,” she said. “But we’ll be fine.”

Steve hoped so.

“Now you must sit until it dries,” Nakia proclaimed, indicating the purple paste as she finished with Steve’s feet and set his heels down onto the floor. Steve glanced worriedly out the tiny windows of the yurt, where he could see that the daylight had fully waned and evening had drawn in. “H-how long will that take?”

“Oh not long. Ten minutes, maybe.” Nakia nodded brightly as she stood and went to the kitchen to wash her hands. “This will help you,” she said. “It will disguise your scent and give you strength.”

“Sure, sure.” Steve wanted to ask if the purple color of it came from wolfsbane, but figured it was probably a bad idea to say anything about wolfsbane at the moment. “What … what makes the color?” he asked instead.

Nakia’s smile turned sly. “Special Wakandan herb,” she said, and would say no more.

Just a plant, then, Steve thought. Just an old superstition from Africa. He thanked her anyway, since it was the polite thing to do. Nakia had spread the paste in lines across his cheeks and down his neck as well, taking extra care to rub it into his bonding glands. Steve hated to think what the people in the nearest town would think of him when they got a look at him running down the street in nothing but the strange markings and his birthday suit. Hopefully someone would recognize that he needed help, and he wouldn’t just be straight up arrested for public indecency or hauled off to the nearest loony bin.

“Good luck, Steve!” Nakia bid him goodbye, Darcy trailing out after her somewhat reluctantly.

“It’ll be okay,” she said back to him at the door.

“Wait!” Steve pleaded at the last second. “What am I supposed to do?”

Darcy just gave him a sympathetic wince and left the yurt without another word, and Steve sat there wondering how the heck he was supposed to know when to go out there.

A few minutes passed, and he started to angst that he’d missed some cue, and that this might mess up the timing of the Harvest wine. Wanda had warned that the wolfsbane would only work for an hour or two, at most. With the distance he had to travel out of the mountains, Steve wouldn’t have any time to waste. He looked down at his purple hands and feet, feeling lame and worried. Then the door opened and Steve blinked at the man who walked in. “... Doctor Banner?”

“Steve, Hi.” Banner came in and walked over to where Steve was sitting, hands in his pockets. He looked somewhat sheepish to be there. "I've seen you around but we've never been introduced. I’m Bruce.”

"I'm ... drying." Steve shifted awkwardly in place and indicated his purple hands and feet. “Not supposed to move for ten minutes."

Banner smiled and sank down into the beanbag across from Steve's. “They sent me in to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“It’s traditional. Before the mating run.”

Steve fought not to blush at the term. To him, "mating run" sounded like it might as well be called "naked werewolf sex chase"—because that's what it was. It was still weird to hear people talk about it so openly, and Steve shifted in discomfort. “Um, no offense or anything, but why’d they send you? You’re not omega.”

Banner’s mouth twitched. “No. No I’m not. But it’s usually someone who can impart a bit of wisdom relevant to your situation.”

“Oh.” Steve waited, unsure what the heck Doctor Banner had to impart. “Um, so …?”

“I wasn’t born into the pack, either.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he leant forward slightly. “I didn’t know that. You weren’t born a werewolf?”

“Mm mn.”

“What happened?”

Banner looked down with a small, self-deprecating smile. “I’m a doctor. One night a patient came into the E.R. in pretty bad shape. I was a mandatory reporter back then, so when his bloodwork came back saying he was infected. I had to alert the authorities.”

“You turned him in?”

He nodded regretfully. “I did. The patient heard about it, and the next blood draw I did, he grabbed the needle. Stuck me. Told me ‘welcome to his world’.”

Steve’s lips parted in shock. “On purpose?!”

“Well yeah. I’d ruined his life. He wanted to ruin mine.”

Steve had heard of cases of healthcare workers being infected on the job, but it was always discussed with an air of tragedy about it—like the AIDS crisis had been, back in the eighties. Banner was sitting there talking about it like it was no big deal, and Steve couldn’t decide whether an “I’m sorry” would be appropriate or offensive, at the moment. He licked his lips and instead asked, “Well, what happened then?”

Banner shrugged. “Lost my job. You can’t practice medicine if you’re infected with lycanthropy. Can’t do a lot of things, as it turns out.”

“No, that’s not true.” Steve shook his head. “There are … anti-discrimination laws. It’s illegal to fire or not hire someone based on infection status.” The quiet snicker he received for that told Steve he was being very naïve, and he squared his shoulders defensively. “Outside of medical jobs, I mean.”

“Yeah, there are laws.” Banner’s flat affect told him just how little that mattered in the real world, and Steve felt his face heat with indignity on the other man’s behalf. Banner continued, “I couldn’t find work, after. Being in the registry and all. Got a taste of my own medicine, so to speak. Karma. I felt so awful for all the years I’d ‘done my duty’ and reported infected patients to the health department. Got to see what the world was really like for people living with lycanthropy.” He shrugged. “That was when I started trying to find others.”

“Oh.” Steve had never once considered what he’d do if he ever contracted it. It’d always seemed like such a far away problem, something that could never touch him. Something for other people to deal with. Embarrassed over his own ignorance, he looked down at his hands. “I guess … I just always thought everybody was born into a pack, for the most part.” Werewolf communities were some of the most disorganized and dysfunctional in the country. Noone liked them because they were trouble: poor, crime-ridden, drug-addicted, violent. Steve had never stopped to wonder why that might be. “You don’t hear of hospital infections much anymore,” he mumbled.

Banner nodded. “Yeah. With safety precautions these days it’s rare. And when it happens, you’re kind of screwed. The packs’ve been marginalized for so long that they’re very insular now. Protective. Most of them won’t just take in strays. There’re too many traditions, rules, suspicions. But then I found this pack, and because of Barnes, they’re different. A lot of physicians won’t treat were patients, you know? Infected or congenital. So the pack needed a doctor. Barnes accepted me in. Gave me home, a family, purpose.” He looked at Steve meaningfully from over the rims of his glasses. “I owe them everything.”

Steve’s heart sank. “You’re trying to tell me I should be glad to be here. Is that it? That I shouldn’t be afraid of getting infected?”

“No.”

He crossed his arms, remembering the purple paste only belatedly and looking down at himself. Luckily, the paste seemed to have dried and hadn’t smeared on the robe. He looked back up at Banner with narrowed eyes. “Well I’m not here by choice. They kidnapped me. I’ve been trying to run away, and they keep dragging me back. So I don’t know what Bucky told you to come in here and say to try and butter me up, but don’t bother.”

Banner’s face pinched sadly. “He didn’t tell me what to say. He thought you might have questions. About what it’s like, what’s gonna happen. He asked me to come talk to you.”

Steve scoffed, unwilling to believe that. Bucky wasn’t trying to be nice, he was trying to be manipulative. He thought sending in a former human outsider to sing his praises would change things, would somehow make Steve happy or ease his fears. Well Steve had news for him: it didn’t. He wished so badly that Bucky was there himself. He’d rip the alpha a new one if he was—

“So do you?”

Steve looked up. Banner was watching him expectantly. “Do I what?”

“Have any questions?”

“Of course I do!” he snapped, frustrated. When the other man just sat there looking regretful and kind, Steve felt bad for having raised his voice. He pursed his lips and looked down. “I dunno,” he said. “I guess I’m still hoping to get away. I guess you think that’s pretty stupid.”

“Naw,” Banner assured. “I went on a cleanse after I got infected—some made up junk I found on the internet. I knew it wouldn’t work, but I spent a thousand bucks to have some purge juice mailed to my house anyway.” Steve shot him a ‘really?’ look, and Banner nodded with a wince. “Yeah. Trust me, nothing sounds stupid when you’re desperate. I'd know.” He inhaled deeply and pushed the bridge of his glasses back up his nose. “But, I guess if you don’t have any questions …” He started to get up, standing from the bean bag chair and heading for the door. “It was nice to officially meet you, Steve.”

“Wait!” Steve blurted, fearful of being left in the dark on something he’d long wondered. “... What’s it like?”

Banner turned back and blinked at him. “Which part?”

Steve swallowed thickly before he worked up the nerve to ask, “The first time. The … shifting. What’s it like? Does it ... ya know, hurt?”

Banner looked like he’d expected the question. “Well, it is painful, but probably not like you’re imagining.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s intense. Overwhelming. Really weird. But it hurts in a way that almost feels good. Satisfying.”

Steve scowled. “That makes no sense.”

Banner shrugged apologetically. “It's its own thing. There's nothing like it. No that I've experienced. The only thing I can compare it to is ... maybe a bit like having a knot or a kink worked out? You know: like a good massage; stretching sore muscles, or popping your knuckles; that prickling feeling you get when you come in out of the cold and your skin starts to warm up. It’s a relief feeling. Does that make sense?”

Steve sighed. “Not really. Kinda. I dunno.”

“Hey.” From the doorway, Bruce sent him a fortifying look. “You’ll be okay, kid. It’s really just a day or two of fever, and then you feel right as rain until the moon comes. That’s when you’ll shift with the whole pack.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured, thinking about the particular shade of the purple-blue flower petals that'd probably already been strained out of the giant vat of wine by now. “... shift with the whole pack.”

He’d certainly do something with the whole pack, if this plan didn’t pan out. Like get ripped apart by them.

Bruce seemed to take his silent worry for concern over becoming a werewolf, so he added, “And you feel stronger and swifter after, even in your human form. You can smell better, all your senses are enhanced and you feel more in tune with yourself. Especially during and right after a shift. It’s exhilarating.”

Steve nodded, avoiding meeting the other man’s eyes out of the guilt he felt. Soon the entire pack would be drugged up and knocked out because of him—even Banner would be. “Thanks,” he said morosely. “For telling me, I guess.”

“Of course. I’ll tell them you’re ready. Someone will come and get you.”

“Great."

The door to the yurt closed behind Banner, and Steve was left alone again, sitting in silence except for the near-distant sounds of two hundred people kicking off a bonfire party.

He turned his hands over in his lap and stared down at his purple palms. “Great,” he repeated, this time in little more than a whisper. He wasn’t ready for this at all. He was scared, and anxious, and guilty, and not at all sure that he was doing the right thing.

Darcy had explained that everyone would recover, but it certainly wasn’t healthy for them to be ingesting wolfsbane. Steve was low grade poisoning an entire village of people just so that he could get away from Bucky. It made him feel crummy, made him think of the pale rings of scar tissue all the alphas had from the silver collars poisoning their skin, back at the prison. Steve cringed when he thought of how mad Bucky was going to be, once he realized what Steve had done. Darcy had said people might throw up once they regained consciousness, and Steve hated to think of hurting everybody like that. He felt no better than the prison guards, using the wolves' weaknesses against them.

But it was too late to back out now. The plan was already in motion. Outside, people were probably already being served the laced wine in red solo cups (or whatever kinds of cups hillbilly werewolves drank their booze from). And Wanda and Peter had stuck their necks out for Steve, in helping. All he could do now was soldier on with the plan.

Soon he’d be free of this place, and all the wolves would be right as rain, having recovered from the sneaky poisoning of their harvest wine. They'd go back to their lives as usual, minus one pesky human, and so would Steve. And it would be fine.

It would be fine.

Masterlist

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letmelickyoureyeballs · 23 days

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How did I never realize the untapped potential of having two parents in the medical field who can help with body and medical stuff in writing.

What’s a better source for figuring out what dangerous and deadly vitals look like then someone whose seen people die almost once a week.

Had a lovely conversation on how deep you’d have to bite someone and where in order to make someone bleed out.

And another one talking about the “practicality” of a mating bite and the best place to put one so that it’s visible while also leaving a scar.

#writing #writing tips #writing advice #medical information #health #medicine #health care #medical inaccuracies #biting #bite marks #marking #mating bond #mating bites #alpha beta omega

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noprobllama92 · 8 months

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chapters: 1/1

words: 12,466

fandom: Inuyasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale

rating: Explicit

warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

relationships: Higurashi Kagome/Sesshoumaru

characters: Higurashi Kagome, Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha

additional tags: Love Confessions, Courting Rituals, Mating Bites, Soul Bond, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Inuyasha is not amused, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Injured Higurashi Kagome, Praise Kink

summary: Kagome asks herself the age old question - how do I get myself into these situations? - when she’s caught off guard by a youkai on the way to meet Sesshoumaru. Luckily, things tend to work out for the best for the miko

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#ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #sesskag fanfiction #sesskag #sesshoumaru #Kagome #mating bites #love confessions

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descendantofthesparrow · 1 year

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Can't stop this feeling - Harry Hook x reader- SMUT FIC- P5

SMUT FIC-MINORS DNI- All ‘important’ characters are 18+!

warning; SMUT, unprotected sex (don worry (y/n) is on birth control), blood, biting(consensual).

Chubby!reader-no fem pronouns used but using female anatomy.

*note/warning; some fat/body shaming from one of the characters-fat/chubby/big bodies are beautiful-fuck other people's options if they're negative.

In the days that followed the day trip to Genoa, Harry found himself sleeping through the nights with no burning heat under his skin. Finally able to get a full night's sleep since the 2nd night of the cruise. The royal cruise ship was heading back to Auradon-of course being scheduled for one last stop before it was set to head straight home, but it seemed-whoever it was- had given up on drugging Harry.

And while Harry felt immense relief at that-he couldn’t help but miss spending the night with (y/n). Harry sighed, looking up at his cabin ceiling, his mind wandering to places it really shouldn’t. his body shuddered at the memory of you, your thighs against his hips, your mouth on him, the way his hands fit perfectly against your sides, warm and plush-he swallowed harshly when he remembered how you smelled, how you sounded, how you tasted.

Harry let out a shaking huff, closing his eyes and rubbing his face. “Get a grip Harry, for god's sake” he muttered to himself, his cheeks already warm as he felt himself get hard. He bit his lip-glancing at his door-seeing it was locked and slowly dipped his hand below the blankets, gasping lightly as his hand met his bulge, twitching under his palm.

“Fuck.” Harry muttered, already beginning to pant as he rubbed himself over his boxers, his cheeks beginning to burn as he slowly began to rut his hips into his palm, a wet spot slowly growing on his boxers. “hhaaa-ha-ah~” Harry tilted his head back into his pillow, closing his eyes as he imagined your hand instead of his, and his fingers soon dipped below the band of his boxers.

His shoulders jolted as he touched his tip, already leaking with precum, and slicking his fingers up. “Fuck-“ Harry cursed quietly, clutching his pillow as his head thrashed to the side, clenching his jaw as he started to slowly draw his fingers up and down his hardened cock. “ahh-“ he remembered the last night he had come to your room for help-the day before Genoa, he remembered you going on your knees-you’re pretty eyes looking back up at him, fuck you were so fucking pretty. He remembered your tongue on his cock-fluttering against his tip and licking up his shaft.

His hips jolted, forcing his cock through his fist and he groaned, gasping for breath as he stroked his dick, his eyes screwed tightly closed as the slick sound of his skin closing around the tip echoed in his ears. God, he wanted to taste you again, to hold your hips down as he sucked on your clit-to fuck you till you both dropped.

Without the help of that damned drug.

A loud moan ripped from Harry’s lips and he quickly covered his mouth, unable to stop them from pushing out his chest as that heat coiled in his belly, his fist and hips getting faster, precum soaking his boxers and hand. He started to pant your name out, breathy moans interrupting his speech “(y/n-fuuah-(y/n) ahh-ahh~ hhhah (y/n)~”

His belly jolted, the hot coil in his belly tightening as he thrust into his fist-he thought he might bite through his lip as he came closer to that peak. He let out a groaned whisper of your name-his cheeks blazing as that coil snapped, his back arching slightly as he came-ropes of cum coating his belly and soiling his boxers.

Harry collapsed, breathing heavily as he felt himself relax, his cheeks slowly cooling down as he pulled his hand up from the sheet-scrunching his nose at the strings of cum and precum stretched between his fingers and palm. “Shower time” he muttered to himself, hopping out bed and into the bathroom-not bothering to turn the lights on.

He hit the cold water-and in an instant the heat that blazed under his skin disappeared-but the thoughts of you didn’t. “Fuck.” he muttered, turning the shower to hot as he rested his hands on the wall, letting his head hang between his shoulders. But instead-they were thoughts of you just-being you, smiling, laughing, eating, playing with your rings, messing with the opal necklace he had gotten you, biting your inner lip as you read a book.

Looking at him.

Harry let out a long sigh, brushing his soaked hair back as his body further relaxed, but the flush of his cheeks returned-in just a week, he had fallen so hard for a girl he hadn't even known existed before the cruise. and once again he thought it a sin that he hadn’t. You deserved to be known, to be loved, to be worshipped. He remembered the piece of obsidian that sat in his jacket pocket; wondering when he would give it to you.

He wondered if you would accept it. He flushed further, remembering how Uma had explained what gift-giving meant to merpeople, it was a way of courting, and Harry remembered not minding that at all. He still didn’t, he wanted to keep giving you gifts, rings, rocks, bracelets, necklaces, jackets, hoodies, plushies, anything he could get his hands on that would suit you.

He chuckled at the thought of you in his favorite hoodie-a black hoodie covered in skulls, but damn you would look so damn cute in it. He glanced to the side, remembering the cruise would be making its final stop tomorrow at Puerto Rico, before heading straight back to Auradon-and he decided he would ask you on a proper date this time. Just the two of you, and maybe he would gain the courage to ask you out properly, obsidian rock and all.

He smiled at the thought, of dating you; holding your hand, kissing your cheek, holding you close, you wearing his hoodies, him smelling of your perfume, tracing your scales in the sunlight, swimming with you-admiring your beautiful mermaid form.

He nodded to himself, slicking his hair back again and turning off the water-stepping out of the shower and quickly drying off, putting a clean pair of boxers on, and making sure his sheets were clean before getting back in bed.

He would ask you out tomorrow. And he hoped you wouldn’t think it was just because of the god-amazing sex.

You rut your hips against your fingers, panting as you felt that hot coil in your tummy tighten, your mind a flurry of images provided from those wonderful five nights and sixth day. His stupid lopsided smirk looking down at you, the turn of his arm as he thrust his fingers inside you, his hot breath against your throat as he moaned against your ear.

“Fuck-“ you cursed, curling in on yourself as you managed to hit that spot inside you-though your fingers were no match for Harry’s. God his fingers were heavenly, long and nimble-perfect for hitting each spot instead and pulling you apart wonderfully. “Harry-“ you cried his name out, your toes curling as you came, heat bursting across your skin, your fingers coming to a sudden stop as your orgasm thrummed through you.

You panted as you came back down from your high-your ears ringing and vision slowly unblurring. “Fuck.” you muttered, pulling your fingers out from your underwear and rubbing your face with your clean hand, slowly getting out of bed to wash your hands. Gods-you had a crush on that handsome fuck before-but never had he invaded your mind so relentlessly before. Every waking moment your mind was bombarded with his toned chest, his carved v-line, his callused hands, his stupid-cute lopsided smile, his laugh, the scrunch of his nose, the furrow of his brow.

In just less than a week-you had gone from hopeless crush to hopelessly falling in love. if you ever found the fuck that had been drugging Harry, while they were sick in the head for doing it in the first place-you would have to thank them for putting you in Harry’s line of sight.

If not for that drug, you might’ve never known Harry as you did now. You knew more than most actually-and had a connection no one expected. Which reminded you to set up a trip to Neverland to take Harry there, and let him meet your mother-his mother's best friend; before she was kidnapped by Hook.

You sighed at the thought, wondering what Harry’s colors would be-there were opal now, iridescent even-and until he touched neverland waters for the first time-they would stay that way. You wondered if his sister had the same effect on her scales. Probably. No reason they wouldn’t.

You finished washing up and slid back into bed, your eyes catching onto the plethora of gifts Harry had gotten you during the day trip to Genoa, your eyes caught onto the opal necklace most of all. Did he know what he had been doing? Had Uma explained it? Had he just-been going off instructs and still didn’t know exactly what he was doing?

You flushed at the thought of him properly asking you out, gift and all, that stupid smile on his lips as he held you close. Something told you in your gut to get him something in return-a weapon of some sort was most traditional but considering you were on a cruise and security was pretty tight, you probably wouldn’t be able to get him one in Puerto Rico.

If anything-you would have to wait till you got back to Auradon, and properly accept him there. But….that didn’t mean you couldn’t browse the market.

You nodded, it was decided, you would start looking for an acceptable gift for Harry-you just hoped your instincts were right in telling you to do so. You fell asleep soon after that, dreams of dating Harry Hook filling your sleep.

You grumbled as someone knocked on your door-just as that someone had since you had slept in together. “’s unlocked” you called out, voice a bit raspy as Harry opened the door, that stupidly cute smile on his face “g’mornin lass” Harry purred, sliding over to you and sitting down next to you. “breakfast is bein’ served, and yer sleepin’ through it~” you huffed, reaching up to rub your eyes and then dropping them down at your sides, one of your hands laying over Harry’s thigh. He took your hand and rubbed his thumb on your palm, chuckling down at you as you yawned.

“was’ for breakfast?” you asked, moving to lay your head on Harry’s thigh, his hand moving from your palm to your cheek. Harry pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes as he looked to the side “uh….i didn’ check yet. I jus’ woke up myself” Harry chuckled, drawing his hand under your torso and lifting you up to rest against his shoulder “now up up, we ‘ave a long day ahead” you perked up at that, resting your chin on his shoulder, breathing in his sharp ocean-metal scent.

“Oh?” you asked, watching as a pink flush grew on Harry’s ears as he stared into your eyes, getting so easily lost in them “And what are we doing today?” Harry swallowed, looking away for a moment then smiling at you, shyly. “i-I was hopin’, we….we could go out on a date? Like-like a real one?” he asked quietly, looking down at his hands, his cheeks turning pink.

You blinked-he-what?? “you-wanna-me?” your voice cracked as you spoke, and you were wide awake as you sat up properly. Well you would definitely have to get him a proper gift to accept his courting. “aye, and-please don’t think this about tha’ sex, cuz-fuck thank you so much fer helping me with all” he made a gesture, his cheeks red “tha’ but…i-I really like ye an…an” he pulled something out of his pocket, and you gasped-it was a shimmering piece of obsidian, so black it rivaled the night sky “I dunno how ta do all this-mermaid courting stuff but-I hope all tha’” he nodded to his gifts from last week “and this,” he held up the obsidian. “will suffice.”

You nearly cried, gently taking the rock from his palm and holding it to your chest-your instincts purring with delight and that voice in your head screaming for you to accept him, to give him a nice thing, something a protector needed. “In proper mermaid courting rituals,” you whispered, staring into Harry’s eyes, which were dilated-yours were too. “usually the one being asked, or the gifted-would give back something that symbolizes the gifter, or you-and-while I do accept-until I give you my gift, it’s not official, but I do accept.” Harry grinned taking your free hand and kissing it, sending shivers down your spine and your laughter through the room.

“Can't wait ta see what ye gift me~.” Harry purred, chuckling as you rolled your eyes, pushing him to stand as you slipped out of bed. “You’ll see, you’ll see, now go! I have to get dressed-date appropriate ‘n all” you muttered, butterflies fluttering through you at the mention of the sudden date.

He actually wanted to date you-he had meant to start the courting ritual-Harry Hook actually wanted to date-YOU. You were going to implode you were so happy. You quickly got dressed after Harry skipped out of your room, telling you he would see you at breakfast.

“He actually wants to date me” you whispered to yourself as you walked towards the dining room, already able to smell breakfast. “He actually likes me” you felt giddy-your heart a flurry of emotions, all good. Nothing could ruin this day-nothing.

Nyx seethed as she once again watched you join Harry and his friends for breakfast-just as you had the day before, and the day before, and the day before-joining them for lunch and dinner as well. “How dare she.” Nyx hissed to herself, bending the metal of her fork as she glared daggers into your back. “He’s mine you fish bitch.” Nyx stabbed the egg she had been eating, grumpily chewing it as she continued to stare you down.

She couldn’t take you down here, not while everyone was too easily close by, and not with security around 24/7 since it was discovered by the king about Harry being drugged. Which was only half the reason she stopped attempting her little plan. Her half of the potion just-wouldn’t work-it was supposed to lead Harry directly to her, it was supposed to make him painfully horny for her, and only she could alleviate his pain. And he would use her as a means of relief-and thanks to both ends of the potion, he would get her pregnant.

And he would be hers. He was supposed to be hers. Why wasn’t he hers?! Why had he gone to this-random fat bitch?! What did this-(y/n)- have that she didn’t? Nyx had a perfect body, flat stomach, no double chin, perfect legs-why had Harry been attracted to you?!

She hated the way he looked at you, like a gift from the gods, his hand always finding its way onto your back, his lips on your shoulder or the top of your head, she had found him staring at you when you weren’t looking-at your thighs, your belly, arms-everything-like it was something good to be looked at.

What in the hell did you have-that she didn’t?! You were just some-mermaid!! You probably spelled him before she had the chance-you had duped her from the start. Nyx grit her teeth painfully, scrunching her nose as she forced her eyes to leave you and Harry-avoiding the sight of Harry kissing your cheek-to which Uma and Gil shared a knowing smirk as you blushed heavily.

She was going to get him back. And if she couldn’t? then no one could have him.

Nearly as soon as the ship had made port-you and Harry were on the town, going on your date. You knew he had only asked you out that morning, but god if the idea of going on a date with him still didn’t send butterflies through you. Your hand was held in his, the two of you walking side by side, your hands swinging between the two of you.

Who thought a wild passion-filled night would end up in such a sweet day? You giggled at the thought, shaking your head as Harry glanced down at you, his brow perked in curiosity. “So,” Harry started after the two of you walked around a bit, exploring the city of San Juan-which was just breathtakingly beautiful, especially once you got into the older parts of it, with cobblestone roads leading your path and amazing buildings surrounding you. “I’ve-never been on a date…what do we do?” you laughed, tipping your head into his arm.

“We just-hang out, have some food, explore-just enjoy time together.” you explained as best you could, Harry nodded. He could do that, that was easy, he already loved being around you. Dating was easy, going on a date with you was easy. And so-you explored; enjoying the multi-colored city, stopping at street vendors(Harry nearly melted at the Empanadas), and you gazed around at the market-peeking inside shops you passed-your instincts constantly calling to look for a good gift for Harry.

You wanted to get him a knife of some sort-one that was as pretty as his eyes. And you didn’t know if you would find something for him where-or if you would be able to. “Might need a permit or something to bring a fuckin knife on the ship” you muttered to yourself, Harry on the other side of the street-buying you another pretty thing his eye caught onto.

You smiled, even after you accepted his offer, he still wanted to get you pretty things, his only explanation being that his brain kept going ‘oh pretty thing, (y/n) must have it’ and he just-didn’t bother trying to stop it or himself from getting that pretty thing. speaking of which-you turned, seeing Harry walking up to you, that stupid pretty smirk on his lips “what is it this time?” you teased, holding out your hands, your scales shimmering in the sun-as were Harry’s.

You noticed they appeared more often, probably because he wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. Once you learned of his heritage-he stopped being so…scared, of showing it off-so his opalescent scales appeared more often-especially in the sun, along with his fangs-which were always present but now they were more obvious.

Harry just grinned, that stupidly adorable grin that made you want to melt and kiss him stupid, and gently placed a necklace in your hands “Another one?” you teased him again, noticing it was more of a choker-a simple black leather band that connected to an opal-like stone with a metal backing. “Aye,” Harry chuckled, helping you put it on as you handed it back and turned your back to him. “Tha’ shop I went inta’ is run by som’ mermaids, locals as it would be. Cool shit in there, one of em could tell what I was in there fer’ ‘an helped meh’ find this fer ye” you cooed at the thought, turning back to him with shining eyes, ones that made him lose his breath for a moment, his cheeky grin turning so soft.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” you whispered, kissing his cheek and biting your lip-wondering if they had any gifts for Harry in there. Your instincts told you they did. “I’m-I’m gonna check in there as well-you-stay.” Harry laughed, crossing his arms and leaning against a wall-watching you with those pretty eyes of his as you skipped across the road and into the store.

When you entered, it felt like you had stepped into a friend’s house, a smile immediately growing on your face. You started looking for a gift for Harry, your fingers trailing the wooden shelves, hundreds of handmade items catching your eyes. Jewelry, bracelets, leather sheaths, water skins, tops, hair accessories, rings, shells, shimmering rocks, dried starfish, pearls, dresses and-knives.

Your instincts purred with delight, and you obeyed their call to look at the knives, your eyes drawing over the intricately made weapons. Some were switchblades, some were daggers, hunting knives, carving knives, pocket knives, machetes; any knife you could think of.

Your eyes drew to the daggers and switchblades, admiring the swirling handles and shining metal. None of them truly caught your eye though “where are you?” you whispered to yourself, your hands hovering above the case keeping the knives out of reach.

There-there it was. You breathed softly as the opal handle stared back at you, the swirling metal of the hilt design only making you think of the designs on Harry’s hook. “perfect.” this was it; this was the gift for Harry. You turned-about to ask for assistance-smiling sheepishly as one of the mermaids working there was already behind you, a key in hand. She smiled at you, her dark skin shimmering under the natural light filtered through the sun-roof. “Found your gift for that pretty boy out there eh?” she said in a strong Spanish accent, pushing her braids away from her face as she stepped up to the case and unlocked it, taking out the dagger you had picked out.

You nodded with a shy smile “Yeah, he-he asked me out this morning, wanted to give him something in return-ya know? Tradition ‘n all that.” you explained, smiling as the woman laughed, her voice warm and comforting. “Yes yes, I can see he’s given you many gifts already, no?” she gestured to your new necklace, along with the other opal necklace Harry had given you in Genoa, along with the rings and bracelets. You nodded, grinning as she started to ring you up. “you are from the cruise ship visiting us yes?” you nodded again. “you’ll need a permit to take it back with you, luckily, we can get you one right here”

Your shoulders sagged in relief at that, leaning towards her as she wrapped your knife up after putting it in its sheath-which was made of rich dark leather and could attach to Harry’s belt loop- and took out a piece of paper, having you sign it and then singing it herself. “there, all done.”

Wow-that easy huh? You said as such to her and she just grinned, her golden eyes shimmering. “Because of who we are-us merpeople are given some-privileges that humans to not-such as getting a permit for weapons easily-as it is a part of our culture.” You beamed, thanking her for her wonderful service and hospitality “You are very welcome cariño, may I ask where you are from?”

“Auradon, but I was born of Neverland.” The woman gasped happily, clapping her hands. “Oh I have a cousin from there~ Marianna” you glanced to the side-you had a feeling you knew who that was, but you couldn't put a face to the name so you just nodded. “Tes yes, now go on~ your Amante is waiting for you.” you couldn’t help but flush at the name she gave Harry, but you nodded, waving her goodbye and skipping back to Harry-who was eating some fruit he had gotten from a passing vendor.

“Find what ye wanted?” he asked, sharing his fruit with you-it was delicious- and you nodded, hiding the wrapped knife behind your back as he tried to reach for it “Hey,” he chuckled, attempting to grab it as you spun around-keeping it from him “it’s fer me ain't it?”

You just grinned, stealing his fruit and running off, giggling as he yelled at you and gave chase. You used the unfamiliar roads to your advantage dodging between other tourists and obstacles to reach your destination-your grin widened as you heard the roar of waves. “(y/n)! get back here!” Harry laughed, losing sight of you for a moment-sprinting after you when he saw the edge of your dress go around a corner, the echo of waves getting louder and louder as he chased you.

“c’mon-its mine, (y/n)!” Harry couldn’t help but feel natural doing this-as if this was a part of the whole courting ritual for merpeople. Chasing his object of affection until he caught them. He was thrown out of his thoughts as he came around another corner-his brow furrowed as it led to nothing but a beach-empty of people.

“(y/n)?” Harry called, trailing his hand along the wall until he reached the sands, biting his lip when you didn’t respond, not even a giggle. He called your name again, his brows furrowing as he spotted your dress and shoes tossed away a few feet away from the shore “(y/n)?!”

Where had you gone? Did you go into the water? He looked down, seeing your footprints disappearing into the waterline and Harry sighed in relief, following your lead and taking off his shoes-rolling up his pants and wading into the water-his scales shimmering as his legs dipped into the water.

He called for you again, and suddenly-a head popped up above the water, and he lost his breath. Because there you were-in all your glory, your scales fully out-curving about your eyes and jaw, your ears pointed and scaled just like your cheekbone, the same-colored scales arched down your shoulders and covered your breasts. You had fully transformed into a mermaid-and Harry had never seen anything more breathtaking since Uma’s first transformation at Cotillion.

“(y/n),” Harry whispered, slowly wading out to you, not caring if he got wet-he left his phone and pocket with your stuff anyways “you, yer” he reached out, taking your cheek in his hand. You smiled, teeth sharp and eyes reflecting your scales, pointed like a cats eye and gold reflected in the (color) of your eye. “you like?” you whispered, bobbing up and wrapping your arms around his neck, smiling softly as he stared at you in awe.

“Yer beautiful” he whispered, his hands on the curves of your waist. You grinned, pushing your head to rest against his, your nose grazing his “Thank you” you whispered back, slowly drawing your hands down until they took his, drawing him deeper and deeper into the water “Do you trust me?” Harry grinned, a cheeky spark in his eye.

“I wouldn’t fuck ye if I didn’t.” He teased, letting you pull him under the waves as you snorted, he closed his eyes; holding his breath as your hands never left his. He heard your muffled laughter, and suddenly your lips were on his-and his eyes snapped open-his cheeks flushing as he saw you kissing him-so close to him, your hands on his chest as you kissed him softly, your tongue licking at his bottom lip.

He felt something open on his neck and his hand smacked it-feeling four slits on either side. He chuckled at the feeling, his ears suddenly reacting as if he was above the water, able to hear you with no problem as you pulled away, that sweet smile on your lips. “Tha’ was our first proper kiss,” he whispered, feeling no problems with the water that entered his mouth. And it was-it was your first kiss without the push of that damned drug. You giggled again, letting him pull you back in, his arms around your waist, his fingers tracing the scales that protected your back, flying up to feel the thin fabric-like fin that protruded from your mid-back.

“So,” Harry muttered as you pulled away, your eyes staying on his lips “How’d you do the-” he gestured to his new gills “-neck thing?” you tilted your head, wondering what he meant when it hit you, and you giggled, leaning in to kiss his throat, sending a shiver down his spine “I didn’t do that, I just wanted to kiss you-the gills are all you.” Harry felt his chest rumble with a near purr-like sound, and Harry realized you didn’t give him a mermaid's kiss(well, you did) but instead his mer biology kicked in.

He was nearly giddy at the thought; he had gone from having no signs of his mother's heritage: to slowly growing into it as each day passed away from the isle. First was his scales, then his teeth, now his gills. He wondered if he would be able to transform outside of neverland-though you did promise to take him there. He wondered what his true colors were, he remembered Harriet telling him that their mom's tail was a brilliant ocean blue-like their eyes.

“Are you okay?” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face-while they were useless underwater-he was crying, his tears disappearing into the ocean water. He sniffed, nodding as he rubbed his face “jus’ never expected any of this.” he laughed, smiling as you kissed him gently, his hands finding the small of your back.

When you pulled away, you had the package in your hands, the waterproof wrapping catching Harry’s eyes. “(y/n)?” he whispered your name, going silent as you placed the package in his hands, a language he didn’t understand coming from your lips, but it was one he felt like he should’ve known. “Suscipio te protectorem, provisorem meum, et dilectum meum.*” He felt an intense shiver go through his body, instincts purring with immense delight, and suddenly he felt the connection he felt with you strengthen, something flashing in your eyes and the gifts he had given you.

He looked down, opening the package, smiling as he pulled out the opal-handle dagger, it matched his scales, the metal details on the hilt and butt of the handle reminding him of his hook-its sheath just as beautiful as the rest of it. “I love it” Harry muttered, clutching the weapon to his chest-he had never felt such-earthshattering love for an object or person before. “Thank you, (y/n).” you hummed, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. He tucked his face into your shoulder, his cheek against your scales.

Soon you re-remerged from the water, resting on the sand as you both bathed in the sun, holding hands as you quietly talked, your head on his shoulder as he took slow deep breaths, a smile on his lips. Only a week and a half-that’s all it took for Harry to fall so deeply in love. Before-he thought he was someone that would take forever to even like someone like this, like Uma said-she thought he was one for slow burn-but-oh but you, you had changed him in ways he didn’t even realize he could.

While whoever drugged him would definitely be punished for attempted drugged rape-he would have to thank them for bringing him to you. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not know you, he couldn't imagine a reality where he went on from this week as if nothing happened.

He really didn’t know why he had become so-fucking infatuated with you; it wasn’t the drug-if it was-that feeling wouldn’t exist outside of those nights. His instincts always purred when you were around, begging to keep you close, to protect you, to provide for you.

He hummed at the thought, curling towards you and tracing his fingers against your scales, his eyes on your sleeping face, your face pressed into his chest. “I'm glad it was you,” he whispered, kissing your head and taking a deep breath, the sun providing a wonderful blanket of warmth as you both continued to dry off; his new knife tucked safely in his pocket.

Hours later, day turned to night, and you both had dinner at a quiet restaurant, sharing your meals and holding hands across the table. And soon enough you were back on the cruise ship. And you had an idea-you took Harry’s hand as you made your way to the maid deck-leading him towards the elevators and pressing the button to your floor. Harry tilted his head, gasping as you pushed him gently against the wall, the elevator luckily empty as you captured his lips with yours, your hands on his chest as he groaned quietly, his hands finding your hips and squeezing.

“Ye been thinkin’ of it too?” he asked quietly as you pulled away and scraped your teeth on his throat, appreciating the grumble that came from his chest. You nodded, panting as you bit at his jaw, your hands going under his shirt and feeling his abs, his skin wonderfully warm against your palms. “Since Genoa,” you whispered, nearly purring as his hands hiked up your skirt and found themselves underneath your shorts, his calloused palms on your skin.

His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you up till you were on his hips, his already hardened dick grinding against you. You breathed heavily against his lips, soft moans escaping you as his hooded eyes stared into yours. The elevator dinged and Harry quickly dropped you to your feet-his hands leaving your shorts and straightening your skirt as the doors opened-luckily no one was there. “Thank fuck,” you muttered, grabbing Harry’s hands and tugging him through the door, about to head to your room but Harry nodded the other way. “My rooms closer” he muttered and you quickly followed, the heat in your body becoming nearly unbearable as you raced to Harry's room, the pulse between your legs getting stronger with each passing moment.

Harry quickly unlocked his room upon arrival and shoved open the door, taking your waist and kissing you deeply, pushing you into the room, and kicking the door shut. You moaned into his mouth, your arms around his neck as he pushed you towards his bed. Your knee’s hit the frame and you collapsed, breathing heavily as he leaned over you, those bright blue eyes of his dark with lust for you.

Lust that was truly his own, and not from a damned drug. Oh gods how you dreamt of his moment, how this moment had pushed your fantasies, to be taken by Harry of his own will-and not because of that drug. “Fuck me,” you muttered and Harry descended on you, his lips on ours, his hands quickly pulling your shorts off, hiking your skirt up, and finding your soaked cunt, you gasped at the feeling as he circled your clit-chuckling as you squeaked at the feeling.

He purred your name out, his teeth on your jaw as you pushed your hips into his hand, whimpering as his wonderful fingers pushed inside you, just like you had imagined the night before. “Fuuuck.” you breathed, letting your head tip back and Harry latched onto your neck, sucking there and scraping his just-sharpened teeth against your skin, leaving reddening marks that would stay for a few days.

His nimble fingers hit that spot inside you, sending sparks up your spine as his other hand found your clit-swirling it as his fingers worked magic inside you. You panted his name out, your chest rising rapidly as his mouth left your throat and kissed you deeply before moving down to your collarbone, one hand coming up to pull your dress top below your breasts.

He attached himself to your perked nipple-your hands tossing themselves into his hair as he licked and suck at you, his hand going back to your clit to make you see stars and hear nothing but white noise. You cried out as you felt that coil grow in your tummy, your legs going around his upper back as he continued to finger fuck you, his spit starting to trail down your breast as he switched to the other one-humming as he did so.

"Harry-fuck-Harry!" you cried out again, your cheeks blazing hot as you felt that coil unravel wonderfully, warmth spreading through you as Harry’s fingers curled up against that spot and thrust expertly inside you. Virgin my ass-and if he had been before that first night-he had the best damn instincts in the fucking world. Your cum soaked Harry's fingers and he slowly pulled out as you came down from your high, watching through heavy eyelids as he brought his hand up to his lips and sucked them clean-his eyes almost gleaming red as he stared down at you, his dick pressing against his pants.

“Ye taste fuckin’ wonderful.” he mumbled, his voice low and gravelly. You just lay there, waiting for him to move as you took in his lanky yet built form. He smirked, taking off his jacket and tossing it aside, making a show of himself as he undressed.

You let yourself enjoy the show, sitting up on your elbows as he stripped-his shirt going next, revealing his built abdomen. Fuck he was so pretty, his scales lightly reflecting in the fluorescent light of the room. you wanted to bite him-mark him as yours. Which he was now, but gods you wanted to make it official, make him your mate.

You swallowed as he slid off his belt, his bright eyes looking at you through his lashes. He smirked that stupidly cute smirk and unbuttoned his pants, his underwear going with them as he pulled them down. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, the tip of his dick dripping with precum and hard for you.

You bit your lip, lifting your body up as you took off your dress, your shoes joining Harry’s on the floor as he unzipped them and tossed them aside, his body on yours again as he caged you between his arms. He kissed you softly as he pushed inside, both of you gasping at the feeling, it felt so different without the drug in his system. You felt like heaven, shivers racking his spine as he pushed himself to the hilt, holding you close as he settled against your hips, your legs going around his waist.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his cheeks warm as he buried his face in your neck, your nails gently scratching down his back. “ye feel so fuckin’ good.” he muttered, pulling back and kissing you again as he began to move his hips, a slow even pace that sent shudders up your spine. You whined out his name, your eyes screwed shut as he gently ruts into you, his eyes never leaving your face.

It was very different than those three nights, which started out with hot molten passion that slowly cooled down-but this? Oh, this was sweet, still passionate, but so sweet and soft, treating you like something to be savored and taken over and over again.

He kissed you again, so sweetly you thought you might cry, your hands drawing up from his back to curl into his soft hair, a low growl erupting from the back of his throat as you scratched at his scalp. He thrust a bit harder, your breath failing you as you choked, your body crumbling a bit as he kept that new pace, watching as you unraveled beneath him as he hit that spot over and over, the sound of skin again skin resounding in the room.

You gasped into his mouth as he lifted your hips slightly, letting him get that perfect angle-and you saw stars. You gasped his name over and over, mouth dropped open as that coil got tighter and tighter, that heat bubbling beneath becoming a rolling boil. “ha-harry” you moaned out softly, grabbing his shoulders, writhing beneath his body, your tummy contracting as you felt that wave of pleasure beginning to turn to a tsunami. “I’m-I’m -fuck, ah!”

He grinned, ferally, and bit the curve of your neck and you came hard, fireworks exploding in your vision and your hearing going white as you came, white-hot pleasure pulsing from your neck as harry broke your skin, your blood filling his mouth and his rolled to the back of his head-his hips stopping with him deep inside you, coming just as hard as you did.

You groaned at the dull feeling of his cum, keeping him on top of you as you felt waves of pleasure roll over you, your blood dripping down your skin and Harry's chin. He pulled back with a gasping huff, his eyes wide-and if you were coherent, you’d notice them changing colors, like his scales-looking down at your new bite wound, that quickly healed. “wh-wha?” he croaked, reaching to your neck and tracing his fingers against your new scar. The perfect imprint of his teeth on your skin.

“Mating bite” you whispered as you came back down to earth, your instincts purring with delight as they felt the bite and his cum deep inside you. “I accepted you as my mate-your instincts drove you to make it official.” Harry swallowed, glancing between his bite and you. “I can do it to you too? If you want.” Harry’s head tipped up; his breathing heavy. You grinned, and sat up slightly, moaning quietly at the feeling of him still deep inside you. “I want a yes, Meus amor” Harry nearly came again from the words on your lips, shivers running down his spine and running through his limps as he nodded, a raspy yes escaping him.

You took his head, his eyes heavy as he gazed down at you, his pupils blown. You licked the crook of his neck, feeling your fangs protrude a bit, you purred to comfort him-and then you bit him, his blood filling your mouth as Harry nearly collapsed, coming inside you again as he gasped and moaned, his eyes flashing hundreds of shades as pleasure exploded through his body.

He cried out your name, his cheeks blazing hot as you licked his wound clean and pulled back-watching as it quickly healed, your bond now official. He collapsed beside you, pulling out as he did, panting as he came down from his 2nd high. “Holy fuck,” he muttered, tossing his arm over his eyes as you rolled over to cuddle into him, his other arm automatically going around your waist. “in less than two weeks, I went from single to a bonded mate.” Harry joked, and you laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek, your hand sneaking around and caressing his bite.

He glanced at you, his eyes peeking out from under his arm curiously. “is that normal? To move that fast?” you shrugged at his question, drawing designs on his chest, admiring the shimmer of his scales that popped thanks to his sweat. “Depends, soulmate bonds move much quicker than chosen bonds, my parents weren’t soulmates, dated for about two years before they became bonded mates. But my aunt did find her soulmate and they were practically married within half a year.” You shrugged again “It really depends on the couple, we also just-kinda speed ran all this; thanks to the drug” you joked, resting your head on Harry’s chest as he laughed, the rumble vibrating through your ears.

“Soulmates are a thing fer merpeople?” Harry asked, looking as if something had finally clicked, his arm drawing down to take your hand, but you were distracted by his wonderful eyes, humming as you nodded. “Yeah, chosen by the gods. Some mers never find them, but can find love all the same. Some don’t-and they’re perfectly fine with that, my uncle's aro: so he had zero problems with not having a mate. Some have human soulmates, like Ariel and Eric.” Harry nodded, looking up at the ceiling. “Do…” he started, licking his lips nervously “do ye think we’re soulmates?” you giggled, leaning up to kiss him gently, nodding as you rested your forehead against his.

“Usually mers don’t become bonded mates within two weeks.” you teased, giggling as Harry rolled his eyes, taking your waist and rolling over, trapping you with his arms “hey~!!” Harry just mimicked your squealing cry, kissing you over and over, hand on your hip.

“im glad I found ye that night” Harry whispered after a few quiet moments, and you smiled, taking his jaw and kissing him softly, licking his bottom lip before pulling away. “me too” you whispered back, holding him close as he adjusted to lay halfway on you, his nose going to the crook of your neck, his lips on your bite.

You both fell asleep like that, Harry soon waking back up and adjusting the both of you till you were beneath his sheets-cleaning you up gently before he fell back asleep in the crook of your neck; your arms automatically wrapping around him and holding him close.

-end of p5-

Suscipio te protectorem, provisorem meum, et dilectum meum.* = I accept you as my protector, my provider, and my beloved.

*KICKS DOORS OPEN* BOOM BABY.

I’M BACK(kinda)

I got like HELLA inspired by a Tumblr mutual of mine(who is a fucking menace YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) and finally just-kicked the bucket~!!! I dunno if I’m back back but I’ll see about slowly updating just this fic-and I’ll slowly smooth back into writing for Harry. For now, please be patient as I figure out where to go from here(I know the basic plot-I just-don’t wanna rush it~!) but anyways-I have some extra art and MB for yall on the next page/post~!(for Wattpad/AO3, Tumblr should already have these arts and mbs lol)

Anyways thank yall for waiting and reading~ also as I was writing the last bit-I realized I lowkey wrote an A/B/O fic XDXDXD

taglist! cuz yall actually liek this fic for some reason? if i forget anyone I'm sorry-its been too long XD

@sephiralorange @c-rose2081(the menece) @rintheemolion

living-for-romance to be added for next taglist

#harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #SMUT FIC #mermaid soulmates #sex potion #not for this part #honstly this is mostly fluff with smut at the start and end lol #mating bites #courting gifts #smut #cant stop this feeling

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wigster07 · 7 months

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Day 6 Prompts: Bruising/Biting/Marking

You know exactly where we went with this ;)

(Mind the tags)

Rip Me Open and Make Your Home Inside Me - Silver85 - Willow (TV 2022) [Archive of Our Own]

#Lumberjack Jade #Werewolf Kit #Loving Me Loving You #AWOOOO #Mating Bites #Mind the tags #Tanthamoretober #Day 6 Prompt #Tanthamore

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notkitten · 5 months

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i want to have her bite me so hard that one could pull her dental record from my body

#yeah I know that's not how dental records work and all #it's paperwork and history but no other words sounded nice here #dental information? my c*nt dries up #so anyways #sapphic nsft #my sapphic little mind #wlw nsft #nsft lesbian #lesbian nsft #queer nsft #mating bites #bite me #biting kink #mark me up

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starwalker03 · 6 months

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So the @dcu-rarepair exchange is finished up so I can share my gifts!

For boyswonder, 'put my lips to something'.

Kaldur'ahm/Dick Grayson

Summary:

Dick and Kaldur are on a simple mission to investigate some strange occurrence off the coast of Happy Harbor. It should be a simple little mission to retrieve some data, perhaps they could banter a little, maybe Dick could summon the courage to ask Kaldur on another date.

They may be biting off more than they can chew.

#dc comics #fanfiction #dick grayson #young justice #nightwing #dick grayson x kaldur'ahm #kaldur’ahm #omegaverse #omega dick grayson #alpha kaldur'ahm #sex pollen #body worship #greek mythology #mating bites #first time

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ikemenomegas · 1 year

Note

Nightmare for Gojo? Because he's kind of a nightmare 😂

He is kind of a nightmare [affectionately] isn't he XD. Hmm how about in a nightmare?

You wake with a quiet gasp, alone in a room that is familiar but not yours.

Throat feeling too thick, you sit up and fumble for the cup of water on the bedside table. It is stale, but it forces you to hold your hands steady and you grip it just a little tighter than normal while you slowly cycle cursed energy through your body.

It warms your limbs and wakes you up. You're unsure whether to be disappointed about that. It's still dark outside and the dull white numbers of the clock in the bookshelf read some time late after one in the morning. Too late to be wandering but you shrug a thick oversized shirt over the clothes you had put on - too wary of being woken by more than your own mind to change into pajamas - and pad out the door, into the chill November night.

You can't sit still while images, real and imagined, tear around your mind. The path before you goes up and around the mountain the school is built around, and you start to climb, lungs tingling with cold.

No one stops you.

You weren't there in the barrier on Halloween. You're not on trial. You're not under arrest or even truly censured. You're just... remanded to the school. Waiting. While they decide whether or not you're enough trouble to execute outright.

Satoru has made enough of a nuisance of himself that you're fairly confident they'll ignore you in comparison. Especially once they won't be able to prove any binding connection. It makes you wonder for a moment how intentional it is the way he pushes away everyone but the college's dozen wayward teenagers, and how much is just his bad personality.

Children he can protect. The world of sorcerer's is a harsh one, but it has still learned to excuse youth and its inexperience.

It makes you wonder again why he has you.

Your nose is cold by the time you run out of road and end up at your destination. Night washes out color and it hasn't helped the constant replay in your head, like the pages of a book flipping back and forth: bodies surrounding a bed, moving the bare figure on it, dead to the world.

When you enter the infirmary, the familiar scent of antiseptic and medicine just makes you shudder. The lights are low, half of them turned off given the late hour, tiled walls and floors gleaming dully. You move deeper into the building, listening, but the only footsteps are yours.

At every corner, you're apprehensive of what you might find.

The infirmary is dim and gray as the vision that woke you where pooling light doesn't touch. You hesitate once, just the tip of your finger on the door to a room you have been in before, and then steel your nerves and slide it open.

The fact Shoko can't describe how to create or use reverse-cursed energy used to frustrate Satoru. You'd thought she was enigmatic, since then you've come to understand.

Even when you can lay out the rules of a technique in perfectly comprehensible terms, the feeling is not so easy to describe.

How does Gojo Satoru make something that literally shouldn't exist? The answer lies in mathematics. The way Shoko repairs the human body is based in biology and physiology. Your own technique is only an answer to certain laws of physics.

Even Suguru, whose power was the closest to the kind of pure and terrible magic that you used to think existed only in storybooks, who didn't want to explain himself...

You'd guessed over a decade ago that his physical form was acting as some kind of barrier but the truth is you still don't understand it.

Even knowing what you know, maybe you don't understand any of the people around you.

Just like how Shoko can't quite explain herself, she can't explain why Nobara hasn't woken up yet. The curse called Mahito should have rent her to ribbons like it had done to Nanami but sorcerers are good at subverting what should happen.

Instead, she like so many other things, is simply a secret here, her injury frozen while Shoko carefully tries to augment whatever technique Nobara discovered at the edge of death.

She'll be fine, that's the verdict, but with nothing else to do, you come here to see her, to remind yourself of what it is you're protecting.

You sit on a hospital's version of a some kind of padded bench, and rest your elbows on your thighs and drift into an uneasy sort of vigil.

ii.

"Nightmare?"

Megumi's voice jolts you out of your doze. You can't have been here long because you don't yet feel the chill, but you hadn't heard him approach the door. He doesn't look convinced when you try and smile at him.

"You always did know. Even as a child."

"You shouldn't try to hide it."

You just give him another smile and Megumi sighs, settling down next to you on the bench. It's familiar the same way you sat down was familiar. The heaviness is a mirror to your own. You've seen him here and have left him alone while he works out whatever he has to at his healing teammate's side, silencing your steps to give him privacy.

"I'm proud of you, you know."

Megumi starts. He's been different, since Shibuya. You all have been, the world has changed, but there's a weight to his steps that's just... different.

Megumi rests his head against the wall, disordered hair even messier at the back than usual. He must have been here before you and stepped out. You must really look worn down if he broke the unspoken rule you'd both been abiding by. Or maybe he just wanted to be around a familiar face for a while.

The light in Nobara's room is turned down, and it's like the scratch of discordant strings, the screech of a train, the way the grey false memory of your dream cuts through your chest.

There's no such thing as prophetic sorcery. Nothing is set that far in stone.

And yet.

"I know what you're trying to do. The strategy is good, but if it's a choice between your lives and accomplishing your mission--"

You trail off while Megumi looks curiously down at where you're still hunched over your folded hands. You have just enough courage to let your hands shake a little in exchange for meeting his eyes and seeing the guard there, and the trust.

You turn away before you can see that most precious thing break.

"Take your lives."

You can feel the way Megumi stiffens beside you. He's been raised by the Strongest sorcerer in the world and told more than once that he has potential to be that equal. He can be forgiven the hope and arrogance that one can win it all.

Although... they'll be with Hakari, so maybe not.

There's always a price to be paid though. If the kids don't come back, if this kid you've known since he was six and far too serious--

"Gojo-sensei has done a lot for everyone," Megumi says, voice dark and low.

He tries to keep you out of it, is what you don't say. There's lines he won't cross. The spirit possessing our old classmate's body found one of them.

Even though the kid's taken up the mantle, clan head at his age, it's still worlds cleaner than it could have been.

"The world needs him," Megumi adds, and you say nothing to the slightly desperate edge. The world needs a lot of adults to do more than they are and some adults to do less than they've done.

"The world might be able to rise to the occasion," you reply, and you're trying for dry but even to your ears you just sound tired.

"Don't you want him back?" Megumi finally asks, quieter. He doesn't talk about the thing between you and Satoru. It's been what he knows most of his life even when he hated the "lanky layabout teenage delinquent" that showed up in front of him like some kind of criminal. He's old enough now to assume what is still, for the time being, true.

"I think that Gojo is a little safer in there than the rest of us out here." It's stupid to be this emotional about it, it was just a dream. "Don't you think?" you try and joke.

He gives you the kind of look he sometimes give Satoru when he does something to try and derail a conversation in the worst way possible.

"Well whatever Megumi-kun is going to do, is what Megumi-kun is going to do," you say, leaning back so your head touches the wall too, the chill seeping through your skin as you speak blithely into the air.

Megumi leans back and sags a little sideways, sighing. "You shouldn't worry so much," he finally says.

I wouldn't worry so much if you valued your own life a little more, but how can he? A sorcerer's life is lived in the service of a world which barely knows they exist, fighting the kind of battles that barely hold the line against curses. Protecting people from their own creeping self destruction.

You had normal friends, once upon a time. Sometimes you still see those people. You make excuses for your absences and fend off well meaning attempts to get you to try and date someone, to come out drinking and catch up, to see them more often than middle school reunions.

Satoru doesn't get it. He's never had any of that. A normal life? It's pointless to try and you don't miss it. Being a sorcerer is what you can do. It's just a hard truth that you have to do it alone.

Satoru wants the students strong enough to be an indispensable threat, to fill the ranks and tip the balance of power. You want them strong enough to stand together.

Sometimes you think that makes you the worse of the two of you.

"You don't have to take it all on your own. I know I'm not around a lot, so it's okay if my words don't carry as much weight. If it makes you feel better though, you all are the plan, so you can't go around dying. Satoru knows you're important to changing the world so--" don't let him ask you to die for him.

The mark between your shoulder blades burns.

"I'll be careful," Megumi says, but his voice is weird, too close, and you know why a second later as his head lands on your shoulder, curling up a little into himself like when he was younger. "I'll make sure Itadori is careful too."

He's hidden his face in the high collar of his jacket but your own embarrassment is harder to hide up close. "Well," you settle in, moving the bare minimum so Megumi can rest a little more comfortably without being embarrassed into leaving completely. "I'll be here. Probably."

His elbow digs into your side hard enough to knock your breath out.

"Ouch. I think Nobara is rubbing off on you. You know she's going to be insufferable about the reverse cursed technique once she wakes up."

Megumi hummed, amused, but went quiet after that. You felt as his breath deepened and more of his weight dropped against you and he eventually fell sleep.

iii.

"You smell like him," Shoko says, leaning against the wall. She doesn't have to say who. You are wearing a piece of clothing you'd left in his room for far too long and your old classmate has always had a sharp nose.

"Hmm," you distracted yourself by checking on Megumi again. You want to smooth the unruly hair from his forehead like you had done when he was a mistrustful boy, tug the wrinkles from his collar like you had when he was an angry middle schooler.

Now he's a sorcerer, somewhere between a man and a child, steady and kind and tired. You can see the dark circles under his eyes and the way he slouches when he walks has to do with that new weight he carries.

When you look up, Shoko is still looking at you. She hasn't given you a look like that since first year when none of you liked or trusted one another further than you had to.

You incline your head towards Nobara's bed anyways, giving her permission to enter the room. She doesn't need it. The infirmary sits squarely in your mind as part of Shoko's territory. When she's administering to her patients, she is the only one in charge.

Still, she gives you a wide berth on her way to check on Nobara and it gives you an odd sense of relief. You want to say it's because you came to talk to her as much as checking on the injured students, but begrudgingly you admit she's treating you like she would treat any Alpha guarding their pups. She comes close only to the one you've granted permission until you feel safe around her again.

They're not your kids, you remind yourself guiltily. You don't have that kind of right, no matter how protective you feel.

If I am ever incapacitated, look under the loose floorboard in his old room. You know the one where he kept Shoko's--

Cigarettes, yeah.

As if any of you could forget. It was so long ago, more years spent apart than together, but that year still haunts you like a ghost.

Earlier in the afternoon, you'd followed those instructions and found your own piece of Satoru's contingency plan. Then you'd watched it burn between your fingertips, turned to less than ash.

You wonder if Shoko is here for Nobara or for you.

She checks the girl's pulse and you watch her close her eyes in concentration, a golden glow filtering through Nobara's veins.

You're glad to see her chest rise and fall a little easier.

When Shoko finishes you use a tiny bit of your technique to draw her scent towards you on a breeze. She smells like smoke.

The scent flashes grey over those old memories of delinquent days.

What the hell are you two doing?

It's disconcerting to be left out of the loop, but as Satoru's letter proved, maybe it's the right thing to do. You do have your own part to play after all. It won't do to die yet.

You don't want to wake Megumi though. It's been a long time since the last time you've been able to take care of him. It's the only thing that's felt right since Satoru was sealed, since Nanami died.

It's not going to be yours much longer in any case. Maybe that's why Shoko quietly sits down at a desk in the corner and starts making notes in Nobara's chart.

He's not your kid. He's not even Satoru's kid, he was never adopted as a ward, the clans just didn't fight the sponsorship. And he's a few years too old to be able to pretend, which is probably a good thing. What kind of parent wants this kind of job for their child, for children to meet early deaths? Some of the students grew up being told there was honor in it, some that this was what they were born to do.

Megumi's smart, loyal. He could have found a way into the world of non-sorcerers and to a normal life. But he would never leave his sister behind or the promise he made. You don't think he's capable of leaving behind the people he's decided to care about. It would carve out his heart.

That more than anything reminds you you're not his Appa. He had a father and Satoru killed him.

"Megumi-kun" you say softly.

He stirs, but doesn't open his eyes. A muffled chuffing chirp is all you get as he turns his head into your arm.

Shoko's pen stills on the paper for a second before restarting. Still it's a second too long and it's probably the tension in your body that makes Megumi blink open his eyes before you call for him again.

"Sorry to wake you," you whisper.

Megumi sits up slowly, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"You should go sleep in a bed. I'll come get you if anything changes."

He tips his head around your body to see Shoko, probably doodling nonsense right now to keep your instincts at bay.

Maybe he gets it because he nods sleepily and stretches when he stands.

You shrug off the oversized shirt, leaving you in your typical sorcerer blacks. The shirt is more like a jacket anyways, with a thick weave and heavy material, and it will help keep him warm on the walk back. "It'll be colder now, so don't linger, okay?"

He takes it with a little bit of red in his cheeks, but you already guessed he was leaning on you at least partly because it smelled like Satoru. Satoru who's always been there no matter how much Megumi didn't want to ask too much. He puts his nose in the collar as if he's cold.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

You hope your expression is a little more convincing this time. "I'll be fine. Get some rest."

When he leaves Shoko stays. She sits heavily beside you, her fingers tapping on her thighs like they want for something to do.

People don't look at Shoko. She is, like the school, a secret kept with silence. She keeps her own counsel the same way.

Once, you thought you would always know where to find her, but sitting here, in the pre-dawn dark, she is both familiar and a stranger.

The dream is fading, as dreams do. Already it has slowed so that it is no longer a familiar body, limp, spare, Hellenic muscle of his naked flank and thighs dimpling under some masked, gowned creature's handling. Turning your mate so that he lies lateral, faced away from you while horror yanks you back like a hook through your navel.

The scene turns to snapshots and the dull, ill feeling remaining to thrum through your body. It's a bitter match to your resolve.

"How's Toge?"

Shoko shrugs. "The wound is sealed but it's still resisting my technique. We have to wait for his blood supply to build back up before anyone tries again."

"I'll see him when he wakes up then."

"You're planning to stay the night?"

"You expect me to sleep after this?"

Shoko sighed, looking suddenly more tired. "You're really going through with it then? It's only been three days."

"They made the declaration this evening. Against any argument that this Getou isn't Suguru, the higher-ups have decided. Satoru's conditions have been met."

"Being his mate could still give you some pull," Shoko said, "even mated to the exiled clan head, you'll carry weight with some of the factions."

"They're already hunting Yaga. If I want to live long enough to make any difference at all, it has to be before they start sincerely going down the list and assigning bounties."

Her lips twist in distaste. She might be aware of sorcerer politics but you've always gotten the distinct impression she tries not to be.

"I didn't expect you to try talking me out of it." Aren't you in on whatever he's planning? Either way you're getting close to dangerous territory.

"It's not exactly a standard procedure but you should still know what your options are."

You carefully pressed the tips your fingers into into your left palm. You'd never thought of yourself as having pride exactly in the bond-mark. People in the non-sorcerer world could show theirs off but it meant something different in the sorcerer world.

Even though both of you typically had it covered, it's been there for almost four years, a constant reassurance of the promise you'd made to him. One hand comes up to grip your own shoulder.

Will he feel it?

"It's what has to be done," you say. You remember Satoru's wide hand coming to rest on your back, steering you clear of the Harajuku crowds. You remember brushing against the mark with the tip of your nose as you leaned over the back of the sofa, arms wrapped around his shoulders. You remember talking with him about it in the weeks before you'd bitten the mark bloody and deep at the very base of his neck. You remembered the way you own spine had bent when he placed his own mark on you.

"Ready?"

When could anybody who has made this choice be ready?

When you nod and Shoko's hand slips down the back of your neck and under the hem of your uniform to where your bond-mark hides.

The three steps of mating in the sorcery world are each a binding vow.

The bond vow is a less formal, more emotional tether, and the fear of loss makes one stronger. The emotional difficulty of leveraging that fear lending a sorcerer increased power. A marriage vow is a declaration, saying that this was someone important to you whom you would protect as family placed a target on each sorcerer in the bond and heightened the sense of risk. In the mating vow, the bond-mark that goes with it claims ownership and power, one over the other, sealing the other two bonds so that no one else could easily break them.

In return, its destruction destroys all physical evidence of the other two.

The bond-mark is a seal and can only be broken by the death contingency or by cursed and reverse-cursed energy being used on the seal at the same time. It's intentionally difficult, meant to protect the powers achieved by sorcerers entangled this way.

Shoko sets her fingers into the faint indented marking of the bond-mark bitten over where your heart chakra would be pierced through.

The mark resists her, but the crawling of your skin lets you know that the scar is already changing.

Better not to draw it out.

With your hand on the other side of your chest, you push cursed energy into the mark, swirling slowly around the elliptic shape. It feels hot and cold and like pins and needles as you break the muscle and collagen apart and Shoko knits it back together.

She presses her fingers into the smooth skin, checking on her work. But you can feel it. The bond-mark is gone.

As if it were never there at all.

It doesn't make any difference. You couldn't feel Satoru's presence before he was sealed or after.

It shouldn't make a difference, but you feel both lighter and heavier, like Gojo's gravity is still rooted somewhere in your body.

You drop your hand back to your knees.

Shoko doesn't leave.

You listen for Nobara, for her still-human breathing.

When you look over at her, Shoko is also looking down at the ground.

"I didn't think you'd do it."

You look back at the black and white pattern on the ground. You weren't sure you would either. It had felt too much like admitting defeat but then...

"I dreamt of him."

You shouldn't be saying anything. Shoko doesn't do this. But she's staying even though she should leave so you can make your confessions to a comatose fifteen year old who won't ever know you've been here.

"A bunch of scientists, rolling him on a table," you say, wry and feeling ridiculous. The dream doesn't sound terrible when you say it aloud. "Just... faceless people manipulating him while he just lies there." Unable to stop it. You, unable to stop it because you'd been as frozen as that day in the city, and then you'd woken up.

The dream might be fading but you feel like it's still happening.

Shoko straightens up and you know she's finally leaving. You know what she's thinking too because you made sure to say it that way, in the way that would make the dream a metaphor of what's happening right now. If you'd hinted at your simply literal horror, she'd be within her rights to laugh at you.

"So it's not like a vow will be useful anyways," you force your voice light and slightly self mocking. "He can't do anything from in there so why not pretend it never happened."

You raise your head only meet Shoko's apprehensive expression and falter. There aren't a lot of people who know for certain that Satoru is your mate. Now your place by his name in the family tree will be burnt away. The sealing ink on the marriage documents will fade to nothing. The bond itself might still exist, but any promises intentionally attached to it are blown away like so much sound in a gale.

There's a pinched edge to Shoko's usually cool expression. It's too bad that even with this, you can't promise not to leave her all alone. "Let me know if you need anything for it," she says before spinning on her heels and clicking away down the hall.

iv.

You bury your face into your folded hands, thinking of that body, his body, knuckles pressed hard to your forehead, while the vision shifts slowly to Shoko, to the dead-limp body of the students, to Nanami's hellbent flesh, and back.

You hadn't told Shoko everything.

The only part you can't shake was the way that grayscale atrocity began - with Gojo Satoru torn open and bloody like that day, something bundled and birthed dead being taken from him, and how you knew even while he was turned away from you that he was back to being as pristine as he was when this began.

Megumi leaves again in the morning and you don't say goodbye from the window where you're watching. You didn't go back to sleep, there's too much to do. Your power courses like a livewire inside of you.

You started cycling it to see if your typical energy was still there. You should feel weaker without the vows and restrictions weighing you down, but for now you don't. Anger pours molten through you, fear slinks under it like ice. Grief lays over it all like it lays over everyone and the black and white terror of truly losing what Megumi really means when he talks about the world needing Gojo Satoru is both more stark and more abstract in the morning.

You've never thought of yourself as living in Satoru's shadow. Suffering that particular misconception was thankfully prevented by having a good insight into the reality. You hated that there were so many things he took care of alone.

Megumi doesn't think you have it in you to burn the world. You'd seen the faint disbelief in his eyes when you'd told him to give up on Satoru if it meant surviving. And maybe he's right.

But what he doesn't see, behind the mask Satoru wears and Shoko's distance and Suguru's death and your silence is that you all became monsters. Maybe Gojo Satoru chose to keep you close because for a while you were the only one left.

If the kids don't come back, you think it might just be enough.

Gojo Satoru isn't the only nightmare in the world after all.

#In case it wasn't clear because this isn't that good the implication is that mating marks between sorcerers are a binding vow #i'm aware vows between people aren't typically done. but it was explained that this is because it's difficult not impossible #the mating vow is particularly strong because of what is signifies and therefore leaves a physical mark that is connected to vow's existenc #mates don't have to take on the mark but Gojo has spent a lot of time implicating such to the world at large that you both have #as a binding vow the mating vow does two things #one: it prevents a bond and a marriage from being broken by outsiders #(this does not limit the number of people one can bond/mate/marry in the sorcerer world)#two: the binding vow gives each person an option of control over the others' power and actions #the risk of giving someone power over you in turn increases your own power like another layer to the first order bonding vow #which is another reason sorcerer's have the mating vow #it has been abused in the past of course. this is jjk. but because the bindings must all be “consensual” they're still used in modern times #satoru's instructions were for his mate to break the mating mark if he is ever implicated #because if they're “under his control” the elders won't hesitate to execute them along with him and if he's gone he can't prevent it #if it makes anyone feel better his mate doesn't actually thing satoru doesn't love them #but like everything in this world it's complicated.#jjk #gojo satoru x reader #prompt fill #a/b/o dynamics #omegaverse #mating bites #gojo satoru #reader insert #edited #shoko #i am so sorry #for some reason i convinced myself that ieri was her first name #what convinced me the boys were being so polite i have no idea #io.omegas

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