#au: the darkening sky

[shoshimakesstuff]

Fly the ocean in a silver plane See the jungle when it's wet with rains Just remember 'til you're home again You belong to me

Dick and Joan for @mercurygray 💚

#no clue what's going on here but i like the colors #mercurygray #oc: joan warren #au: the darkening sky #kinda sorta #in my head i hear the carla bruni version btw

[unbreakableknight]

Hope you don’t mind. I borrowed your coat!

“Of course I don’t mind,” If anything, Riku looks a little relieved. “It, um, looks kinda good on you, actually.” As he says that last part he rubs the side of his neck.

#john's art #au art #ic #darkened skies au #his sky #knightsky

[shoshiwrites]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @MERCURYGRAY !! Love, @basilone, @junojelli, & @shoshiwrites

The paragals + Jo + a camera  — a retrospective

There are so many of them, spread across the back porch table, edges lifting slightly off the redwood. On the periphery an ashtray, the salt-crystal remains of a bowl of pretzels, two half-finished beers quarantined at the far corner for their condensation. When more people start to arrive, later tonight and tomorrow, there’ll be more ashtrays, more snacks, a stack of playing cards. Eileen’s lipstick, a few pairs of reading glasses. The two of them can hear crickets through the screen walls, the low buzz of a late summer evening. The wafting scent of mountain laurel and hydrangea.

Whole years, laid out in black and white. There are grays too, every shade, starkness and softness, light and shadow. 

“Boy,” Marj says, and there’s a faint hint of shock to it, her tone low and quiet. “I’m surprised you had money for anything besides film.”

Jo smiles. “Sometimes.”

There’s Molly, lost in a manual with Billie beside her, the latter pulling a face for the camera. Julie sitting with her radio set disassembled, Perconte and Luz looking over her shoulder like some accidental comedy team. Jo thinks, if she’s not imagining it, that she can see a gleam in George’s eye. 

Marj gently plucks the edge of a photo of her and Johnny Martin in the canteen, notebooks out, strategizing. “You can have that one,” Jo says. “Any of them, we can figure it out once everybody gets here.”

“Except for the ones I can’t,” Marj replies with a raised eyebrow, just this edge of teasing. The corner section of snapshots Marj had laid out from the pile with a smirk — Joe smoking, Joe walking, Joe asleep with his head on Jo’s coat sleeve. She’d woken him up with that one.

Jo takes the mature route and sticks out her tongue. “Bill might want this one.” She holds one up of Guarnere surrounded by the group — Babe, Niamh, Molly, Smokey, Maggie. There’s Julian too, in the corner, his shoulder lost to overexposure. “Babe too,” she adds softly.

They could make a whole series of the ones of Maggie and Lieb together. Bickering, sometimes yelling, except for the handful where they’re quietly sharing a soda or half a Hershey bar, unaware of the camera. One of those, Marj notes with a raised eyebrow, is slightly singed around the edges, and Jo remembers Maggie hissing something about burning the evidence. Jo doesn’t tell Marj about the one she gave to Lieb, Maggie’s hair between fingers and a pair of scissors, body out of frame, the one he’d quietly traded her more smokes for than she knew he had.

There’s Ruth and Malark sitting together, knocking knees and talking, one Jo had nabbed standing above them. Even in the monochrome, the auburn of their hair is unmistakeable. They stifle snorts at one of Molly staring into space while Webster holds forth about some subject she could care less about, laugh at one of Hannah and Connie making like bandits with Perco’s toothpaste, with Frank not far behind. Blink away tears at one of Skip and Penk messing with a radio, one of Hoobler too, his grin wide as anything.

There's a quiet portrait of Irene fixing a dab of camo cream on the apple of Shifty’s cheek, his eyes trained on her. One of Judy halfway through digging a foxhole somewhere back in England, looking up and looking fed up in the direction of the camera.

In another, Joan explains a field exercise with her characteristic precision. The other lieutenants are focused on the map, except for one. “Joanie’ll get a kick out of that one,” Marj says fondly. "Her flight should be getting in soon." There’s more of them, those quiet moments-between-moments, spaces-between-bodies, until a sunlit lakeside where his arm rests quietly around her waist. “And this one.”

There’s Speirs in repose in a sunlit pine forest, Harry writing Kitty with the focus of a surgeon, Harry holding Kitty’s parachute. Jo had made him smile for it, half diffidence and half joy in his gapped front teeth. 

A scant few from Haguenau, Billie’s profile with chapped cheeks and overgrown brows. Nothing but exhaustion, resoluteness, things that feel far away and very close. Very different from the few behind-the-scenes shots next to makeshift lighting and huge drapes of fabric background, when some genius at LIFE had decided to shove them, scars and all, into sequined evening gowns just before the company had formally deactivated. There's Marj and Billie shoulders-up in strapless numbers, waiting, their hair all done up, unreadable expressions on their faces. A blurred foreground of color in another and Speirs looming in the corner, keeping a watchful and not entirely un-terrifying eye on the photographer around his sergeants. Jo and Marj can’t help but hoot. 

There’s Bill pontificating in a foxhole with Babe at his arm, Doris crouching by the edge, smoke swirling thoughtfully upwards. He looks almost quiet, and Jo laughs. “And Doris’ll get a kick out of that one.” Joe does too, and so does Lip, when the two of them wander back in from the garage, cigarettes still in hand. 

“Niamh was good at getting this thing away from you,” Marj notes, and Jo concedes. Sometimes Niamh handed the camera off to Molly, who had mentioned Cambridge camera stores and the records she’d kept on digs. Molly’s were careful and composed, documentary in feel, a welcome addition to Jo’s scattered moments and the chaos of whenever someone else would get their hands on the little machine. A few panicked blurs of shots make them laugh; they guess Bill, maybe Hannah, or Connie. 

Jo’s hand strokes the Leica thoughtfully, protectively. There are dings on the surface, but it’s as functional as ever. 

“Did you bring film?” Lip asks, cupping his wife’s shoulder. “I think we might have some if you don’t.” They know might is a lie — there are rolls of it, waiting to capture first steps once their kids stop crawling. 

“I did, Sarg.”

He nods, brow serious. “Good work.”

“You ought to put these in a book,” Marj says, and it’s less an ask than a statement of appreciation. Jo leans back, half-nodding and half-yawning into Joe’s side. “Tired?”

Jo smiles. “A little.” 

“Better perk up, I think I just heard Eileen’s cab.”

“How do you know it’s—” Jo starts to say, and before she can finish there’s a loud YOOHOO! by the front door, and the sound of a screen slamming, and another car pulling up besides. They’re back whole now, the ones together, the ones gone, all of them here, captured in light.  

#mercurygray #happy birthday friend!! #basilone #junojelli #the darkening sky #jo's tag #shoshi's au problem

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 1; ghoap x reader)

-

Johnny’s been bragging about a pretty bird lately.

Ghost listens because the periods between missions are long and colourless—he fills the time with paperwork, PT, exhausting his muscles in the gym, and dissociating in a booth at the only good pub on base when Johnny drags him along—and it’s better to tune out the thoughts in his head and replace them with something else. Besides, for as much as he gripes about poorly trained dogs barking too much, he enjoys the sound of Johnny’s voice. It quiets the faint ringing that follows him wherever he goes, an agitated humming that leaves him, on his best days, on the brink of rage.

“Tinnitus,” a doctor says when he brings it up during a routine check-up. Can you shut that fucking noise up?

“Best we can do is get you hearing aids.” Apologetic, sincere even. Stained, as always though, by a trembling, noxious unease. It emanates off the doctor in waves. 

Hard not to feel uneasy around a man in a mask, Ghost assumes. That’s all part of it though. He doesn’t cultivate comfort, doesn’t attempt to engender soft feelings or put the mind at ease. His body and persona are designed to put the body and mind on the knife’s edge of fear, and then tip it over. He leaves the sweet talking and charming to men like Johnny, who babbles red language in a tongue like larkspur. 

Ghost’s first language is oil slick. It stains and it covers and it darkens everything it touches. 

And now, Johnny’s talking about a bird.

A couple months after Las Almas, the first picture comes out. Not a folded up keepsake tucked away in the pocket of a bag or a wallet or the inside of his jacket, but right on Johnny’s lockscreen on his phone. He disapproves at first glance. Not of the girl, but at the thought of keeping something so valuable on display for anyone to see. It’s not how he functions. Everything sacred is burned, destroyed, or—if precious enough—buried so deep underground that salt miners might greet it on the way down.

“Pretty, eh?” Johnny goads, nudging Ghost with his shoulder. He’s all wide grin, eyes electric-blue like the flames of Kawah Ijen. 

She is pretty. Pretty as pie. Not a speck of grit or blood on her; if there’s any edge to her at all, it’s tempered by her smile in the photo on Johnny’s phone. A sugar sweet cunt, by the looks of it, sure it’d taste like candy if he got his mouth on it. He angles his eyes with Johnny’s lips and wonders how many times he’s eaten her out, if hers was the last cunt he ate. Likely. His boy’s the loyal kind, hard to shake off once he’s got his teeth in. Swapping spit or blood, he doesn’t leave once he’s got a taste. 

“Where’d you find her?” he asks instead of agreeing, and takes a swig from the bottle in front of him. The bar’s hardly filled out yet; the two of them come early because Ghost’s an old man—that’s what Johnny would say—and doesn’t like to be around people once the sun’s set. It’s a burnished gold now, sun hovering low in the sky when Ghost turns an eye to it. 

“Florist. Met her when I picked up flowers for mam’s birthday.”

Nearly a month then. “And I’m just hearin’ about this now?”

Not in this same pub three times a week since then. Not on the tarmac, suited up and sweating already beneath two layers of gear. Not in the shower beside Ghost’s, fingers reaching over the side for a bar of soap because Johnny can’t be arsed to get his own. Not with his head slumped to let Ghost shave the sides of his head nice and neat, thick fingers splayed over the delicate bone of his skull that Ghost knows would take nothing to break. 

It rankles him until he looks back down at the phone in his hands—the one he’d plucked from Johnny’s fingers even while he whined about Ghost always stealing his shit—and feels his heartbeat slow. It levels out like staring into the scope of a rifle, the molecules of his breath melding with the molecules of the air until even the sound of his heartbeat dulls to the insects around him. 

Johnny purses his lips. “…Wasn’t sure then. Am now.”

“Cunt’s a cunt. What’s there to be sure about?”

“No.” Johnny shakes his head vehemently. “She’s no’ like that. She’s special—I’m telling ye, Lt—” he stresses when Ghost snorts, the sound thick with scepticism, “—she’s a good egg. Smart one. Sweet as pie.”

Sweet as pie. Mutt half-shares his thoughts these days. They must have brought more home than just shellshock and keloids. 

Johnny squawks when Ghost unlocks his phone and thumbs through his photos, trying to wrench it out of Ghost’s hand to no avail. He’s easy to hold back. All he has to do is put down his beer for a second and get a handful of hair and jerk, and there it is. Peace and quiet. A wince bleeding into his peripheral vision while Johnny mumbles something under his breath about him being a mean bastard. 

He snorts again. Even from Johnny, he’s heard worse. 

There isn’t much left of him these days. A tired husk and a taste for Guinness. He bleeds and shaves and wipes it off, smells the viscera still staining his mask that he hardly ever washes, can’t bear to honestly. Waste of fucking time, as far as he’s concerned. Just going to get dirtied again, soaked in blood again within the week. Shaves his head too just to have less to deal with, less to distract him from the single-minded intensity he brings to the job. He’d dematerialize if he could, become a ghost in name and shape, if only the laws of physics allowed. 

Instead he’s saddled with a body that echoes back his age in creaking joints and low back pain. Scar tissue that aches when it gets cold. 

In the months he’s known Johnny, he’s never let himself think about the world outside their bubble. His rank demands a certain level of socialising, and while he doesn’t schmooze with the brass like other lieutenants might, Ghost hardly has the privilege of isolating himself all the time, but still he can count the people he considers close on one hand. 

Not family, but close. The thought of family is sheathed within him; he knows to leave the knife in lest he bleed. Still, Johnny’s fought his way onto the list and now he has to pay with his pound of flesh. 

There’s a switch that’s been off for years, closer to a couple decades, and it flips back on when he finds this man that trusts him without question, that follows his orders and looks up at him with these big, puppy blue eyes. It twists something in his chest. It turns him into a thing that says maybe it’s better to take than just covet. 

There are other photos of the girl in Johnny’s phone, some likely not meant for present company (Johnny flushes red when Ghost flips to a picture of his bird in a pretty little number, lace cupping her tits and ass, sitting on Johnny’s bed back home and looking back at him over her shoulder with a little grin). Still, it interests him to see this side of his boy; he’s maybe thought of it before in abstract terms. He knows that Johnny’s no stranger to a wandering eye, not with the way he’s built and his pretty boy face. He’s well acquainted with Johnny’s dick, hard not to be in such close quarters; it’s a nice, pretty thing, just like him, a good handful. Nothing like the ruddy battering ram in between Ghost’s legs. The one Johnny once got a glimpse of in the showers after a two week long stint in Kyrgyzstan and paled, mouth gaping open while he stared until he could finally laugh it off. 

Ghost remembers thinking detachedly about how lovely that little gaped open mouth would feel around his cock. 

Surprising that it took this long for him to cotton on to his own desires. 

“Bring ‘er around then. I’ll see for myself how sweet she is.”

Johnny scowls at the sudden uproar from a nearby table. “No’ a chance in hell. Dinnae trust any of these fuckers to behave around her.”

Ghost hums. He’s not wrong to be wary; under the table, Ghost runs a hand over his bulge and gives it a squeeze, lifting his thigh to readjust. She has a lovely mouth too. 

He’s been breathing fire and brimstone recently. Hungering to hear something break. It takes Johnny’s hand on his arm to hold him back, every cigarette puffed down to the filter. The pictures on Johnny’s phone make it seem easy though. 

Johnny’s been bragging about a pretty bird lately, preening at every opportunity to show her off. He doesn’t know that it takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost’s brain to file the girl in Johnny’s phone under mine, slotting her right under Johnny in that category and isn’t that just perfect because it also takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost to imagine what she might look like under Johnny. 

He hands Johnny back the phone, face down. “You get one week. Then I wanna meet your bird.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost/soap/reader #ghoap x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #ghoap x you

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: IT'S YOU AND ME, THAT'S MY WHOLE WORLD

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: one kiss turns into two, and before you know it, an innocent gaming session turns into something more. (streamer!au)

contents: fem!reader. suggestive (kissing/making out). the ending can be interpreted as sex. non-sexual usage/mentions of lollipops bc i have a sweet tooth and i want a lollipop rn. i didn't really spend a lot of time on this one, but i thought i'd post it anyways. whatever, your favorite streamer boyfriend is back! did you miss him? (the answer is yes). -1K words.

"you're not that good, are you?" you ask with a grin, twirling a lollipop in between your fingers. in front of you, satoru's avatar gets shot down by a couple others for what seems like the hundredth time, and right on cue, satoru curses his bad luck. "you know, maybe you'd be better if you were actually focusing on the game."

"it's not my fault," satoru insists petulantly, a childish pout appearing on his face. he sticks out his bottom lip and rests his chin on top of your head. "how am i supposed to be able to focus with you in my lap?"

you stick your lollipop in your mouth and shrug, a little smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you hum indifferently. "sounds like you're just making excuses..."

"oh?"

satoru pinches your cheek teasingly with the hand not resting on top of his mouse, fingers skating from the side of your face to your lips as he tugs out the lollipop. he ignores your halfhearted protests and pops it into his mouth, smiling cheekily as he does so. in the darkening computer screen in front of you, you can see your boyfriend's smug expression, which smirks back at you. "mmm, this flavor's good. what is it?"

"strawberry, i think," you reply instinctually. satoru shakes his head in response, taking the candy out of his mouth and twirling the stick in between his thumb and index finger before he corrects you.

"actually, i think it's you i'm tasting," he quips, clicking around with his mouse for a second before he opens up the photo app. your reflection gazes back at the two of you in satoru's comfortably large gaming chair.

"no wonder you have no game," you deadpan, looking away from the mirror image of you and satoru and towards the ceiling.

"baby, you're literally sitting in my lap right now."

"yes, and?"

satoru's laugh is clear and blue, like a sunlit sky in the middle of june. it almost feels like he hasn't been able to stop smiling around you ever since "the incident," and honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

he sticks the lollipop in between your lips and stops you from verbally bashing him any more than you already have. the sweet, tangy taste is a welcome sensation in your mouth, and satoru can't help but smile endearingly when your reflection looks at him with round eyes. "you're so cute," he mumbles, punctuating each word with a kiss to the top of your head.

a soft giggle slips out of your lips in response. "shut up." even as you say that, you already know his answer. if there was one bet you'd make without a doubt, it'd be that satoru can never seem to shut up whenever you're in his line of sight.

satoru's hands find themselves on your waist, and they turn you around so you're facing him. there's a different (but not unpleasant) look in his eyes as he gazes at you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"what is it?" you ask curiously, noticing the subtle change in his expression. his eyes soften from what looked like a teasing glance to an almost longing stare.

"nothing," he hums, kissing you in between your eyes. "you're just pretty."

satoru's hands thread themselves through your hair, lightly touching the back of your neck as his lips move down to brush against yours. you extract the lollipop from between your lips and tilt your chin up, kissing satoru with a little smile. like always, he tastes like sweetened peppermints, even though you've never seen him eat one before. you'll have to ask about that later, but for now, all you can focus on is the way satoru gently nips at your bottom lip as if he's asking for attention.

you hum softly, opening your eyes and squinting at satoru, who can't help but smile against your lips. "you taste like strawberries," he mumbles, peppering butterfly kisses on the corner of your mouth in between words. "so sweet..."

you exhale faintly, not wanting to pull away from his peppermint-scented lips, and let your eyes flutter closed again. something about the way satoru's hands rest delicately on your waist makes you feel more comfortable than you've been in a while. maybe it's just the hoodie satoru had forced on you earlier when he saw you were shivering, or maybe it's the steady beat of satoru's heart that's almost therapeutic against your chest; whatever the case, you can't remember the last time you've been this at ease.

between his complicated streaming schedule and your busy life, moments like these are rarer than you'd like, but that only makes them all the more special.

five, ten, maybe even fifteen minutes pass by in silence, with the only sound being the soft murmurs shared between you and satoru. his lips fit over yours like two pieces of a puzzle, and the way you fit in between his arms almost feels too good to be true. but thanks to the slender hand that slips underneath the waistband of your shorts and the gentle tug at the bottom of your shirt, you know only too well that this is real; and hopefully, it always will be.

#osaemu #streamer!gojo #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Thunderous

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bang Chan

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Werewolf AU! Royalty AU!

Warnings: There are some elements of non-con in this fanfic. Please don’t read if you don’t like those elements. Mentions of knotting and rough sex. There’s also a lot of explicit smut and language throughout.

Summary: The Wolf King’s name seared your heart. You had been chosen as the youngest and most expendable daughter to be his mate. But you were terrified of the legends surrounding his bloody campaigns. How were you going to survive?

Tag List: @armystay89 @captainchrisstan @starseekersworld @melsunshine @kibs-and-bits

The Wolf King’s name whispered through the trees and hummed between the villages like the ancient stories of the gods.

Some of the villagers claimed that he could transform—bones cracking and teeth elongating until there was no man left. They said his claws could cut through trees and that his howl silenced the instincts of the mountain lions who cowered in their dens. In place of human skin, fur sprouted thick and rough, darkening until it matched the color of the shadows.

The myth and lore had been passed down for years, and you found yourself on the receiving end of all those stories. As the Wolf King’s future mate, you had also become something of an enigma around the kingdom. People looked at you with a glint of respect, bowing their heads and moving out of your way whenever you made your rounds. 

The attention that you hated. Especially when the marriage had been arranged without your willing compliance. Young girl fantasies of handsome princes and distant lands vanquished in an instant. But even if you couldn’t indulge in happiness anymore, there had been a time when you allowed yourself to dream about your wedding. 

Bubbling colors of red and green—like your kingdom’s annual yuletide celebrations—and a long, flowing white gown extending across the floor like an elegant brush of paint. Pure as you had always been. There was beautiful music in your dream, and a gorgeous prince to take you into his arms and glide you across the floor like the clouds moving in the sky.

Fantasies, indeed.

Instead, of merriment and goodwill, you found yourself trembling from head to toe, holding tight to the sleeve of your handmaiden’s gown as she escorted you through the recital hall, down the aisle to where you recognized the Wolf King waiting.

You had only met him twice before. Once, when you had just turned twelve, on the day your families agreed to meet over the prospect of securing peace between your rival kingdoms.

When you were both little children, the Wolf King had no reputation. He was just a boy, and you greeted him with a smile—ignorant of the true purpose of your first meeting. While your parents talked about the future, you showed the Wolf King your favorite flowers, handing him individual stems while your mother bargained your life away:

“A union is our commitment to peace,” your mother had once proclaimed, reaching out to softly pat your curls. “We think they’ll do well together.”

“Yes.” But Chan’s mother didn’t seem convinced. She was an elegant and beautiful woman with long black hair and bright red eyes to match his defining features. “Chan will decide who he wants to marry,” his mother said.

“Y/N will make a good wife when she comes of age,” your mother insisted. “We’ll hire the best teachers to ensure that she is prepared for her duties.”

“That matters little to us,” Chan’s father spoke, and he regarded you like one might grimace at an annoying ant to step on.

You shied away from his intimidating stare, looking instead at Chan as he designed a flower crown for you, placing it on top of your head with a proud smile.

It was the last time he would ever show such kindness.

Over the years proceding your first meeting, Chan became a man, and his reputation for ruthlessness and fury ignited a storm of gossip. 

“The Wolf King stands taller than the gods!”

“The Wolf King slaughtered a village because they refused to bow down to him!”

“He’s a monster! Have mercy on us all!”

You became terrified at any mention of the Wolf King, wondering if your parents were still serious about a union. You found out the hard way when your mother invited the Wolf King and his generals to your kingdom. But you didn’t stick around for very long.

The next time you met, you were sixteen, and you ran away to the gardens in a rare show of rebellion against your parents who had expected you to dress pretty and show off for Chan.

But that wasn’t in your nature, and your instincts screamed at you to avoid the Wolf King. And you thought that you were alone in the forest. Surrounded by the quiet of the thick foliage. But then you heard the bushes move, and you noticed a large black head peering at you with piercing red eyes.

You relaxed when you realized that it was just a common wolf—probably one from the mountain packs, and you weren’t frightened. Animals had always held a special place in your heart, and you approached the wolf with palms upturned to show your peaceful intentions. The wolf never moved, and you stroked your fingers through the coarse fur on his head. 

You returned home that evening thinking your father would scold you for running off like that. But you were instead warmly greeted by your parents who were both ecstatic. “He agreed to marry you, Y/N!” your mother exclaimed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

It wasn’t.

Not at all.

And you had never experienced real fear in your entire life. But walking down the aisle in the chapel to where the fearless Wolf King waited for you, there was a bone-chilling tremble aching down your spine.

“So beautiful,” you heard faint whispers join together, urging you closer and closer to the Wolf King who gazed at you with the most intense stare you had ever received.

When you were within earshot, the Wolf King snatched your hand from the poor handmaiden who had been helping you walk down the aisle.

The girl quickly jumped to the side, bowing her head as the Wolf King forced you to stand in front of him, reaching down for your other hand. You reluctantly gave it to him, still looking at everything except for the Wolf King’s eyes, even if the little growl he gave showed that he disapproved.

You could hear your mother’s chastising voice in your head, scolding you for not pleasing the King. But you didn’t care anymore. Wasn’t it enough that you were standing there, giving your life away to a monster?

In the distant background, you could hear the priest delivering his lines, and when it was your turn, you gave your vow of allegiance, even if the words fell hot like acid from your unwilling tongue.

Thankfully, the ceremony did not require you to kiss him, dodging his wayward lips when they fell too close to yours. 

There was a rush when the proceedings concluded, the firm ushering of hands leading you out of the chapel. You stumbled in your heels, bringing yourself inadvertently closer to the Wolf King who held tighter to your waist. You did not enjoy the closeness, swallowing down your nerves as you tried not to think about what came next.

The crowd eventually parted, giving you enough space to walk down the steps in the open air, briefly acknowledging the cheering crowd spread through the streets. There was a distinct awe in the noise from the people around you, clambering over one another to get a good like at yourself and the predator who would soon claim you for his own. Wanting to acquaint themselves with your kingdom’s bargaining chip—a small sacrifice to ensure an alliance between your people and the ones who fought under Chan’s domain.

On paper, it seemed like a worthy solution to helping your kingdom protect its borders and fight off invaders. The problem was that you felt the weight of pleasing a man you had no interest in—someone who frightened you to your core. A sick knot tightened in your guts and your stomach clenched tighter as Chan led you to Castle Miroh—the notorious landmark of his territory symbolizing the power of the ruling family.

As the main doors parted, you winced at the sensation of the cold and harsh air inside, and a shiver passed down your spine as you forced yourself to keep up with Chan’s incessant pace, footsteps clacking against marble. It was dark in the corridors, and the only lighting came from the flames ensconced along the walls, casting everything in shadows. Ahead in the distance, you could see the outline of a grand staircase, and your eyes worked tirelessly to mark each step on your darkened path.

It turned out that Chan kept his quarters on the highest floor, latching your fingers together the entire time, even as you forced down the bile permanently hitched at the back of your throat at the thought of all the blood that had stained those hands. 

At the top of the staircase, you were pulled to the left, marching down an impressive corridor with a soft, velvet carpet beneath your soles. Eventually, you found yourself in front of a large, wooden door, and Chan ushered you through the frame, a hand to your lower back as your eyes paused on the King-sized bed waiting beneath an unholy painting of a bloody battle scene.

You will present yourself to the Wolf King, you recalled the words of your tutor. He will expect obedience from his mate.

You blinked away tears, knowing what you were expected to do next, and deciding to push through your nerves before you lost the contents of your stomach on the floor. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, but you ignored your instincts, loosening the straps of your dress to allow it to pool into a mess on the floor at your feet, and kicking it aside as you eliminated the remaining distance to the bed. 

You didn’t want to show him that you were weak. That he had any sort of influence that might condemn you a coward. You could not be seen as pathetic in the eyes of a monster, crawling on hands and knees to the center of the bed, head ducked down between your trembling arms and waiting.

Your breath caught when the bed dipped beneath his weight, and you gritted your teeth, feeling his hands take your hips with a powerful grip, nails digging into the soft skin.

The Wolf King will fuck you, your tutor had said, Then he will bite you to complete the mating ritual.

You had seen the Wolf King’s teeth. Sharp like razors and pointed at the ends. You would be a bloody mess at the end of this, but no one could ever accuse you of shirking your responsibilities. You had done everything expected of you, holding on to this thought of solace as you waited for him to take his fill.

“Don’t,” he abruptly whispered, startling you as he laid down on the mattress at your side, closing his eyes and letting out a grumble, completely unbothered with his own nakedness. 

It must’ve happened while you were turned away, but it was still jarring to see so much pale skin on display, marred with jagged scars and scarlet bruises. Eyes trailing over the swell of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and down to this impressive cock. 

You swallowed hard. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“No,” Chan said, chest deflating. “You do not want that.”

His response surprised you, and you wanted nothing more than to hurriedly tuck the sheet around your body to hide you from him. “I thought you were meant to-”

“We are equals,” Chan interrupted with a much firmer tone. “And you are afraid.”

Equals? The word didn’t seem right coming from him, but you weren’t about to question what was seemingly amounting to an act of mercy. Quick as a flash, you had the sheet bundled against your chest, eyes wide as you looked him over. “The mating-”

“We can do the bite,” Chan continued as if he didn’t care that he wasn’t fulfilling the only purpose you had been given. “But in the morning. The celebrations earlier exhausted me. Such frivolous trivialities.”

“Won’t they notice-”

“Who are they?” Chan barked with a hint of a growl that had you flinching. “There is no one who orders the King around.”

His dark pupils met yours in the dark, searching for something. You swallowed hard, unsure what he was looking for, but focusing on the calming sensation of relief flooding your system at his unexpected mercy. “Thank you.”

He gave a curt nod, dipping his head to the space next to him. “Sleep.”

You obeyed, wondering if you could sleep next to him, even if he had shown you some degree of kindness. It still didn’t erase his bloody reputation, and it worried you to no end that you would be sleeping next to a killer. Born to fight his way to power and rule over his kind. 

You took a deep breath, holding tight to the sheet, and closing your eyes. Perhaps it was the roller coaster of emotions weighing down on you from the day’s events, but you did manage to find sleep, even if it was troubled. Nightmares of wolves following you through the woods, red irises piercing you from the shelter of the trees, and claws slicing through flesh. 

You gasped when your eyes sprung open against an onslaught of bright, morning light, heart palpitating in your chest when you met those same eyes looking down at you from above. Chan was a step ahead of you as if he could predict your movements, grabbing your hands in one of his own to hold them above your head. One of his powerful thighs slung across your lower body, holding you in place with a strength that ignited a fire of burning adrenaline. 

“Hold still,” he said, giving you no other warning before teeth sank into the side of your neck, and your body panicked, fighting against him. Like he might take a chunk out of your neck and leave you on the bed to bleed out. Crimson against the cream-colored sheets. 

Immediately, a pulsating shock erupted from the site of the wound, forcing a scream from between your lips at the overwhelming pain. “I know,” he said, and it was barely discernible over the sounds of your cries, unashamed to lose all inhibitions at the sensation of a pain you had never experienced before.

The Wolf King moved over top of you, and you flinched when you felt his tongue start to lap at the painful bite mark on your shoulder. “The pain will stop soon,” he said. “I’m sorry you have to suffer.”

You held back a whine, digging your nails into the soft flesh of your palms. You supposed he had helped the sting, but it still felt like a piece of glass was being sliced across your skin. Even if the guilt and remorse in his gaze were almost enough to distract you.

“Relax,” he soothed, releasing your hands which instinctively went to wipe at your eyes, drying the salty wetness that had accumulated. 

“I- I can’t...”

“You can because you are mine now,” he declared in a tone that had a different flame sparking in your chest. 

You nodded against the pain, focusing on taking deep breaths, and letting darkness take you under once more.

When you woke again, the King was ready for you. He explained that you were needed in the Throne Room to meet some important people. It turned out that the King had three brothers. They were all younger than him. Or so you had been told.

Their names were Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin. Feared and revered for their triumphs in battle.

Your Wolf King seemed proud to show them off, standing before you in an organized line: from oldest to youngest.

Felix reminded you of your own cousins, with his lithe figure, so much different from the King’s own bulk, and a head of flaming orange-red hair. 

Next to him, in the middle, stood Seungmin. Dressed in dark clothes that only made his already dark hair even more onyx-black. Bright green eyes appraising you slowly.

Finally, there was Jeongin. The tallest of the three. And sporting the same dark-colored hair as his middle brother. He seemed to be the most innocent, eyes wide with wonder.

“They are here to support you,” Chan went on after introductions had passed. “Call on them if you need any help.”

Unlikely, but you forced a nod nonetheless.

“You are dismissed,” Chan informed them after you gave your acquiescence, and you watched them retreat in the same formation down the hall.

In their stead approached a shorter man, dressed in full battle attire. Well-muscled to stretch the fabric of his shirt and pants, with serious dark eyes. “My King,” the man said, bowing once. “You are needed on the training fields.”

You flinched when the man’s eyes found your neck, likely noting the swollen mess that Chan had left behind. “I’ll be there shortly, Changbin,” Chan said, and he waited until the man was gone before looking at you. “The Castle is yours, my Queen. Feel free to look around and acquaint yourself with your new home.”

“I will,” you whispered, forcing yourself to stay still when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“Tonight, we can eat together,” came his parting words, and you grimaced at the idea of sharing a meal with him. 

But the concept of sharing a meal with him was nowhere near as horrible as the idea that this place could ever be considered your home. What a nasty thought! This place was nothing more than a prison forced upon you because your parents were desperate for Chan’s allegiance.

“Why did he agree?” you huffed to yourself, spinning on your heel to start the trek back to your room—as much as you could remember. “Leaving me here as if I know where anything is!”

For months leading up to your shared nuptials, you had pondered the reason why the powerful Wolf King had even agreed to marry you in the first place. Neither of your meetings had been particularly impactful, and your Kingdom had nothing to benefit his own; in fact, your alliance was more of a detriment to Chan and his people—a burden that he willingly took on.

You turned the corner to the last corridor, grateful that you had managed to retrace your steps, faltering when you noticed something on the floor outside of your door. You kneeled to retrieve it, glancing at the writing and noting with a happy hum that it was addressed from the Northern Highlands!

“Grace!” you exclaimed, clutching the envelope to your chest as you quickly rushed inside your room, glancing back to ensure the door was locked before hopping onto the bed to rip the contents open.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on your marriage to Bang Chan - it will be a strong alliance for our parents and their Kingdom. 

I apologize for my absence - Hyunjin was unable to make the accommodations.

As you know, snowfall comes to the Highlands in the upcoming months. It will soon be impossible for me to journey to you, or for you to make the journey here. I’d love to see you and your new husband before it is difficult to do so.

Please write to me when you can to arrange a visit.

Lovingly,

Grace

You read over the letter twice before releasing a deep sigh. Would your Wolf King even indulge in such a trip? Perhaps it wasn’t even necessary for him to go. You could make the trip on your own.

You held fast to that thought, of getting away from your prison even if only for a few days, as you lounged around in your room for the remainder of the day. There was little to entertain yourself with, re-reading Grace’s letter over and over again, and sitting outside on the little veranda attached to your room to watch the clouds moving in the sky.

It would be another mercy to escape Chan’s presence if you were to head North alone, but you were afraid that you were pushing your luck, wincing when you heard the door to your chambers opening again, returning inside from your observation of the grounds to greet Chan as you were expected to do.

“My queen,” he rumbled, reaching out to hold your shoulders between both hands, a grip that was impossible to mistake. “Were you able to see more of the Castle?”

“Yes,” you lied through clenched teeth, only breathing a little easier when he released you, eyes dropping to the letter in your hands.

“What is that?”

“It is from my sister,” you explained. 

“I see.”

“She wasn’t able to attend the wedding,” you went on, saving yourself a bit of time as you scrambled for the best way to drop the news to him. Maybe it would just be best to try a blunt approach, giving him your demands since he insisted on calling you an equal. “I wish to see my sister,” you said, refusing to meet his gaze. “Before it is too dangerous to make the trip to the Northern Highlands.”

Chan grunted at your request, and you weren’t well-versed in his language to know what that meant. “She invited you?”

“I can go alone,” you said. “If it is too much for you.”

“I would love to come with you,” he said, disregarding the determination in your tone. “It will give us more time to spend together on our own.”

“Oh.” Your gaze remained trained on the floor, hopes dashed that you could leave him behind. 

“It will be nice to visit there,” he said. “I will make the arrangements. You may write her back to expect us very soon.”

“As you wish,” you sighed, trying to keep the disappointment from your tone, flinching when he grabbed one of your wrists. He didn’t seem perturbed by your reaction, and you watched as he pulled a delicate piece of jewelry from his pocket.

“Well?” he smiled, something that made you shiver. “What do you think?”

“What is it?” you asked in return, resisting the urge to pull back the wrist clasped between his scarred fingers. Even if you did manage to finally meet his gaze.

“It is a gift for you,” Chan said with a smile you were not expecting—blinding and warm. “I made it myself.”

“You made this?”

“As our traditions dictate,” he agreed, keeping a firm hold on your wrist to clasp the little bracelet around your delicate flesh. “It is meant to show our bond to the world.”

You studied it curiously, noting the simple design and the small wolf-shaped carvings engraved in the metal. It was cold against your skin, even as the heat from his body balanced it out.

“Shall we eat?”

He dropped your wrist, and you were able to gather your bearings. “Of course.” You managed a nod, watching as he opened the door wide, allowing a small servant girl to enter the room.

The girl offered you both a respectful bow before she started to set the table, laying out silverware and fine china plates. Behind her, another girl rolled in a cart, wheels squealing on the floor, with prepared food steaming from beneath metal lids. 

“Here, sit with me,” Chan said, patting the space on the bed next to him. “Until they are ready.”

You obeyed, sitting down next to him. Your gaze remained trained on the servant girls, moving about in a well-rehearsed manner as if they had done this too many times to count. 

He reached for your hand, and you did your best not to flinch. “Look,” he whispered, urging you to follow his gaze. “This line on your hand, do you see the way it moves?”

You shivered as he traced the mark he referred to, following it up and down the length of your palm. “Yes,” you whispered, struck by the unexpected intimacy of the gesture.

Goosebumps followed the trail he left on your wrist, and you held your breath when he brought it to his lips. “The same as mine,” he said, almost reverently. Your eyes widened, breath hitching as he aligned your hands together. “A perfect match.”

You could hardly believe it, eyes searching back and forth, but seeing the same line digging into both of your skin. Like it belonged there. 

“There are reasons for everything,” he said, and you felt a small flicker of shame when you read his knowing gaze as if he could sense those dark thoughts that you sheltered about him—wondering why you out of everyone in the world had been chosen to stand at his side. “I wouldn’t question so much,” he continued. “The things that fall into place so perfectly.”

He offered you a wink, surprisingly playful for a man of his reputation. “Let’s eat.”

You nodded, the most you could, and followed him to the table. He was polite as always, allowing you to pick first, waiting until your first bite before claiming his own. You were content, at that moment, to answer the questions he threw your way, increasingly aware of the way the place he had touched warming and the mark on your neck drummed in a gentle pulse.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, and there was less trepidation in your soul when you lay with Chan to sleep. 

You journeyed to the Highlands the next morning, riding behind Chan on horseback, leaving the Wolves’ imposing Castle behind. There was a lightness about you as distance added more miles to your ride, growing brighter and brighter the further you traveled. Even with light conversation petering between you and Chan, you had never been freer in your entire life, the wind blowing back your hair as you soared across the plains.

Despite his repeated requests for you to take a break, you were determined to make it to your sister’s palace before nightfall. You wanted to see her outside, in the meadows that spread invitingly across the Highlands, and walk together just the two of you as you did as children.

There was excitement spiking hot adrenaline in your veins when the hills opened up in the distance, revealing a gorgeous mountain Castle with imposing towers and the familiar flags of your sister’s powerful family. She belonged to Hyunjin, taking his name and crest, and it made you sad to realize that there was a greater distance between you both. You loosened your grip on Chan’s waist, not realizing your grip on him.

You had grown tired of being around him, constantly blinded by the weight of his shadow. At least out here, with the sun beaming down from above, you could feel great relief from the pressure lightening. Perhaps there should be shame associated with your actions, but as soon as you could identify a familiar shape up ahead, you were already leaping from the horse despite Chan’s protests.

Thankfully, your sister was there to greet you, surrounded by two guards. Immediately, you jumped from your steed, falling into her arms and inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. “Grace,” you squealed, keeping her held tight to you as if it would be the last time you could ever do so. 

“Y/N,” she sing-songed back, and you smiled at her playful attitude, only growing a little despondent when you detected Chan’s approach from behind.

“Hello,” she greeted Chan with a polite bow. “It is an honor to welcome you to the Northern Highlands.”

“Your palace is beautiful,” Chan complimented, and you shivered when he drew fingers down the length of your spine—a show of affection that you would never get used to experiencing.

“Thank you,” she said, turning around to gaze back at it as if she were seeing it for the first time. “It has centuries of history.”

“I have heard the tales,” Chan remarked. “From when I was a boy.”

You tried not to snort, not wanting to relive any memories of Chan from his boyhood. Grace’s careful eyes, however, seemed to detect something, and she looked at you with a curious gaze. “Well, I can show you to your quarters.”

“No need, I’m sure one of your guards will know the way. I think Y/N has been waiting for some time with you. I’ll leave you both alone,” he said, even without your prompting, and your sister gave you a familiar smile.

“As you wish,” she said with a little curtsy, beckoning a guard forward with stern orders to help the Wolf King settle in while you and Grace took a stroll of the grounds.

You held your breath, not wanting your impatience to show as the arrangements were made. Only once Chan had started in the direction of the Castle, guards following him closely, did you exhale. Reaching for Grace’s hand, and tugging her forward.

“No need to drag me!” Grace chuckled at your actions, and she linked your arms together, steering you toward the familiar meadows.

You both settled into easy conversation as it always seemed to happen, topics flowing from one to another. There was a lot to catch up on, things left unsaid from your sad exchange of letters. Rumors swirling around the highlands, and stories from your own homeland that you consumed greedily, excited for any mention of your little Kingdom.

Even if you didn’t really belong to it anymore.

You wanted to walk forever, to keep going beyond the highlands. Escaping to a distant land with just you and Grace. A place where you could both live in peace and go about your days just chatting and reading together by the fireplace as you did when you were children.

She laughed at your complaints, forcing you to return to the Castle when the sun had started to set. Thankfully, you didn’t go all the way inside just yet, and the two of you sat down at one of the picnic tables in the gardens. As you settled next to Grace, bowing politely to the maids who brought you both a cup of tea, you frowned as you recognized Chan between the hedges, strolling along with Hyunjin, Grace’s King, down the trodden paths between the mazes. 

You did your best to ignore him, focusing instead on the moment you had with your sister. The setting sun was warm as you reclined your head, eyes closed as you accepted the gracious touch—burning just as hot as your sister’s intense stare.

“Do you have something to say?” you huffed. “I can feel you looking at me.”

Her smile was clear in her tone. “You just seem...different.”

“How so?”

“Like you’ve been tamed.”

Your eyes flew open at the comment, glaring at her. “Stuck in an arranged marriage, you mean?”

“Mine was arranged as well, but you can rest assured that I don’t take the same comfort from my particular suitor.”

“I hardly take comfort from the Wolf King,” you argued, but Grace simply shrugged.

“You’ve never seen things as I do.”

“What’s so bad about Hyunjin anyway?” you asked instead, to direct the conversation away from Chan,

Her smile curdled. “He keeps busy with his whores,” she said, shocking you with such an accusation.

“Grace-”

“Don’t.” Your sister sighed. “There’s nothing you can do.”

She attempted to restore her previous smile, looking back over your shoulder with a sigh. “I like your Wolf King,” she eventually said. “He cares about you a lot. I haven’t seen him take his eyes away from you once.”

Grace must be imagining things. “He’s tolerable at best,” you decided, earning yourself a sigh from your sister.

“My how your perspective has changed,” she remarked, finally turning her attention to the lukewarm tea in front of her. “You were kicking and screaming when you first learned of the marriage.”

“It is something that was forced on me!”

“But you’re not the only one, Y/N,” Grace said with a tone filled with sadness.

Suddenly, you felt chastened and guilty for even protesting her. “For us both, it has created nothing but discomfort.”

“I think there is potential in your match,” Grace argued. “You resist because you are stubborn in nature, but I think there could be good things for you if you just tried to make it work. Wouldn’t it be better, sister, to live with him as lovers than as cold strangers?”

“He is too wild for marriage,” you weakly protested. But your argument held no merit, and you hated the logic in her words, turning away to glare into the distance.

Night passed before your eyes, like the dimmest flicker, and you had never been more unhappy to greet the rising sun. 

It seemed that all good things inevitably came to an end, and you were holding back tears when you parted from Grace the next morning, holding the embrace for far too long. Even as you allowed Chan to help you back onto the horse, positioned directly behind him on the saddle, you kept your gaze trained behind you, watching Grace grow smaller and smaller.

Until she was gone.

Your heart was heavy when you returned to Chan’s castle that same afternoon, but your foul mood didn’t last for long. Distracted as you were, surprised by the bustling activities throughout the grounds, everyone scrambling for something you couldn’t identify. “Our moon festival,” Chan explained. “We will be shifting tonight.”

Oh, right. You had forgotten about that part, too distraught reminiscing on your brief moment of freedom with Grace. “I almost forgot.”

“There will be a feast tonight,” he explained. “We will both join as King and Queen.”

You scowled at the idea. “As you wish.”

Chan frowned at the comment. “You must be tired from the journey,” he continued, choosing not to react to your passive comment. “Feel free to rest in our quarters. I will come get you later.”

You agreed with a half-hearted grunt of acknowledgment. Sleep did sound like a much-needed relief from the exhaustion threatening each unsteady step you took up the stairs. It was what you blamed your disorientation on, barely noticing when Chan leaned in to give you a chaste kiss on your cheek.

That same spot burned under the barely-there attention. But you chose to ignore it, instead focusing on how your feet were throbbing when you landed on top of your bed with a huff, allowing tears to escape as you gave yourself a moment to purge the nasty emotions that had built after leaving the Highlands. Unable to do so as you rode behind Chan.

There were too many different emotions piled on throughout the day, mixing with a heady combination of your exhaustion from traveling. Countless thoughts also swirled through your head, and it was inevitable that you would fall under, losing yourself to the easy promise of sleep. An easier task than grappling with your conflicted feelings. 

Darkness greeted you like an old friend, and your dreams were wild. One moment you were back with Grace, strolling through the meadows. The next, you found yourself in an empty forest, shadows chasing each breath evaporating on cold air, ensnared by a pair of red eyes in the thick foliage.

You stumbled on the undergrowth, falling backward ungracefully. You only had the wherewithal to put a hand over your face, trying to block everything out, as those eyes descended on you. Fear caught in your throat, and it was the lasting image that haunted you as you jerked upright in bed, barely withholding a scream when those same eyes met you in the real world.

“Y/N.”

Chan’s voice was deep, guttural in its intensity, and filled with concern. You flinched when fingers came out to gently remove sweaty bangs from your eyes, heart thunderous inside your chest. His hand paused in its motions, and for a fleeting second, you thought you might drown in his stare.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Bad dreams.”

“I see.”

There was a question in his tone, but you didn’t know how to provide an answer, choosing instead to gently push his hand away. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

He nodded, lower lip caught between his teeth. “If you’re certain...”

You studied him for a moment, wishing that you could confide in him. But there was still a great distance between you, perhaps put there by your own accord, but heavy in its existence. “I shall get ready.”

Chan allowed you the space, agreeing to meet you in the hallway as you rose to get dressed, finding the dress that had been laid out for you by the maids. You slipped the fabric over your body, shivering as the silkiness slid across your skin like a lover’s caress.

True to his word, Chan was waiting patiently on the other side of the door, and you hesitated before taking the outstretched hand offered to you. Unprepared for when it pulled you in closer, under the scrutiny of his affectionate gaze. “Beautiful,” he declared, nostrils flaring as if taking in the scent of the perfume you sprayed. 

“Thank you,” you offered in return, choosing to keep silent as he led the way, helping you down the stairs in your heels. 

For once, you willingly stayed close to Chan, especially as you approached the Great Hall where the festivities would take place. Chan led you into the dining room, perhaps a bit too hastily, uneasy with the weight of his people’s stares boring down upon your figure. Dressed simply in that white gown—pure, as you had always remained—and looking entirely out of place amongst battle-hardened soldiers. 

You caught Changbin’s stare from across the room as you sat at the head of the table next to the King. There was lust in his gaze. And it deeply unsettled you, to the point that even Chan caught your shiver.

He followed your gaze to Changbin who looked away at once. “Tradition says that the King can share his mate,” Chan whispered. “But I will not share you with him. So he can only look.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything in return. “I didn’t know.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Chan stood, addressing the room. “Let’s feast together, comrades! We run together at the moon’s highest cycle!”

A chorus of cheers and howls greeted his words, and everyone started to fill their plates, easy conversation flowing between the wolves like the smell of the delicious-looking platters laid out before you. Still, your stomach revolted, swimming in circles as you picked at the helping Chan had served you. You wrinkled your nose when his grease-stained fingers brought a piece of chicken to your lips, and you forced yourself to take it from him. 

Chan sighed as you chewed, forcing the morsel down your throat as it stung. “I won’t be with you tonight, of course. We will likely stay out in the moonlight until dawn. But I will return in the morning.”

“Okay.” You shrugged, seemingly indifferent. Some time to yourself seemed nice. And you weren’t keen on being outside when they were no longer human. 

“You don’t have to be miserable here, my Queen,” Chan suddenly said, tone taking on a hardened edge. Perhaps the first time he had ever sounded stern with you. “Wolves mate for life, and they choose their partners seriously”

You contemplated his words, chosen ever so carefully. “I - I will try,” you managed, recalling Grace’s advice from the previous day.

To live as lovers rather than strangers. 

He hummed at your agreement, eyes glued to your form as he appraised you with something akin to curiosity. “Don’t roam so far from the castle tonight. It isn’t dangerous, but it is your first time. Of course, there’s usually nothing to fear in the gardens.”

There was a layered hint in his words, but you chose not to think about it too much, simply nodding your head as you resumed your task of picking at your food. There was nothing wrong with the offering in front of you, but your newfound uneasiness mixed with your emotional charge from earlier—it had not yet completely dispelled itself from your system—left an unpleasant ache in your chest.

As if something was missing…

Later that night, long after the wolves left the castle, you realized you couldn’t sleep even if you tried, listening to the chorus of howls from outside the castle walls. They rang through the night, loud and clear, and harmonized with one another as if perfectly in sync. Perhaps they were since Chan and his wolves shared a tight bond, and you wondered what it must be like to be so perfectly in tune with one another.

It was these thoughts that plagued you, and even as midnight came and went, you grew more restless. You resolved to walk through the castle, to quell your thoughts and ease your mind. Even as your footsteps echoed through the halls, you found yourself becoming more awake instead of the opposite effect.

Fresh air would be nice, you thought until you remembered the wolves outside. But then again, Chan did promise you that the gardens would be safe. You could trust him, right? Or was that the problem? Your lack of trust in someone meant to be your partner. 

You resolved yourself in that moment to try. And if that meant venturing out into the gardens, then no one could accuse you of being silent and passive. This was your attempt at trying, and if it ended badly, then you would have all the more leverage to ignore him.

However, despite your attempts to steel your resolve, you found your heart beating impossibly fast when you greeted the moonlight outside. Each lungful of air that you forced down your lungs felt like sharp knives attacking your flesh. Gaze swimming in front of you, footsteps unsteady as you entered the hedge maze surrounding the gardens.

You inhaled deeply, trying to find comfort in the familiar smell of the foliage. There was a strange air of peace surrounding you, and that was all the solace you needed to keep going, admiring the way the colors of the blooming flowers bled in a different light. It was easy to grow distracted by the sight, as beautiful as it was, and perhaps you could blame your wandering eye for failing to adequately identify the rustling of something large in the undergrowth of the forest. 

You hummed to yourself, leaning down to run your fingers over the soft petals of a rose. Its usual red was subdued somehow, under the moon’s glow, and you smiled at the effect, completely ignorant of a different red seeping through the hedges near your right.

It wasn’t until a gentle whimper sounded that you jerked to a stop, hand fluttering to cover your chest as you whipped around to locate the source of the sound. And what stood before you, as powerful as the looming mountains above the castle, nearly had you falling to your knees.

Except, you realized upon a second cursory glance, that there was something uncannily familiar about the beast in front of you, and it only took you another moment to make the connection. A gasp fell from your lips when you realized that it was the wolf from your childhood—the one you had found that day Chan visited your home for the second time. The one you played with in the gardens. The one you spent time with just talking and believing it was nothing more than a common wolf.

You stumbled then, recognizing the now familiar crimson eyes looking back at you—the same ones that belonged to your husband. The wolf, your Wolf King, butted his giant head against your outstretched hand, giving an affectionate lick to your fingertips.

“I understand,” you whispered, unable to decipher the emotion in your voice, but one thing that you knew for certain—there was a clear absence of fear. Because you had never feared this wolf, always approaching it with happiness, completely ignorant of its true state. 

The wolf gave you a meaningful look, and you were struck by the humanness of the gesture. Understanding dawned on you—Chan had always known. He had always known it was you—the one his wolf had chosen. The girl who had never shown fear to a beast that others considered a monster. 

You had known Chan for your entire life without even realizing it, and your eyes welled with tears, watching him toss back his head and release a spine-curdling howl. One that was joined by a chorus of beautiful melodic cries, merging and joining together, and reaching down to your very bones.

You dropped to your knees then—a mere speck before the Wolf. You cried without fear, and this time, the tension between you and your King vanished like the stars in the night sky when dawn cracked across the horizon.

Three Months Later

On most mornings, Chan was gone before you woke up, and that left you with a disconcerting feeling of disappointment. You supposed there was much to do for the King of the Castle, but lately, it made you ache for something you couldn’t quite discern.

For the past several months, you found yourself opening up to the Wolf King in ways you would’ve never imagined. The truth of who he was, the Wolf from your childhood, along with Grace’s well-intentioned advice, had managed to crack through the stoic guard you had raised from the moment you bound yourself to him.

He taught you about the bond—how, even if you weren’t a Wolf and couldn’t experience the same emotions, he could feel each flicker of happiness or stroke of sadness as it moved through you. 

You had not known of this connection before—because of your stubborn nature—and you would always regret resisting it. But things were better, and you could see the beauty in the bond and how truly spectacular it was to feel and understand another person so intimately. It made you wonder—for longer and longer periods of time—just how deep you could make that bond.

Curiosity weighed heavy on you, and your eyes cracked open at a gentle knocking on the door—an opportunity presenting itself when you recognized a familiar servant girl entering your room. “Good morning, Y/N,” she said, and you nodded in return.

At first, you had kept yourself closed off to the other maids, but this one in particular, Ivy, had been insistent. It was hard to deny her, especially when she became your best teacher, indulging you in learning everything related to the wolves and their way of life.

She was also quite willing and open to help you with anything, even if it involved the more intimate parts of your relationship with the Wolf King. You brought it up again that morning, growing more and more confident, especially since Ivy was completely shameless when it came to that sort of thing.

“I thought about your words from the other night,” you opened the conversation, watching as she put your breakfast down onto the table.

“You’ll have to remind me.” There was a teasing note in her tone, and you glowered at the playful look she shot in your direction.

“We spoke about the King,” you said. “You told me things…what I can do to please him.”

“I remember.” She took a step closer, and you were wary of the look in her eyes. “Does he not fuck you well?” Ivy asked, and her tone was absent of the same filter that would stop your tongue.

Still, you were embarrassed, looking down at your feet, wondering how to disguise the truth. “It doesn’t feel good when it seems like he just uses me to get himself off.”

That much was true as you had heard Chan masturbating next to you on countless nights, and your name often fell free from his lips.

“I see.” Ivy nodded. “He doesn’t know better. He was taught that a good alpha fucks his mate and makes sure that she is pregnant for him.”

You winced at her blunt explanation. “Is that all...wolves need?”

“Not necessarily,” Ivy said with a bright smile. “I can teach you...if you want.”

“Teach me?” you asked, gasping when Ivy placed a hand on your chest, forcing you to fall back on the bed.

She was all smiles when she crawled into your lap, grabbing your hands and securing them to her waist. You gasped when she started rocking her hips into your own, feeling the pleasant ache resonate up and down your spine. “The most important lesson of them all,” Ivy said with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “The art of seduction.”

“I - Ivy...”

“Tell me, Y/N,” Ivy interrupted your ramblings, leaning down so that the tips of your noses brushed together. “Would you like that? Seducing your wolf? Driving him to the point where he can’t resist taking you?”

You moaned around your response. “Yes! Please show me.”

Her hips rocked harder into yours, and you could see white forming at the edges of your vision. “Leave it to me.”

And you did, surrendering to her touches, and the wicked way she showed you all the ways to drive a King mad. 

The following night, you bravely waited for your Wolf King to return from patrol, wearing nothing but a sheer robe that left little to the imagination. Sitting on the edge of your shared bed, you caught each breath as it rattled between your lungs. Nervousness eating away at your resolve and leaving the poor skin around your cuticles abused by your touch. 

Ivy’s advice rang clear in your mind as if she were there with you, holding your hands between her own as she taught you how to please the King. You blushed at the memory, hands covering the bare skin beneath your robe, caressing the delicate flesh as she had done the night before. Demonstrating to you the best ways to please a man, and to make him beg for you. 

That kind of power held its curious appeal, and you thought about it constantly. Wondering what it would be like to make Chan lose his mind to the sin of your smell and touch. You could hardly wait, bouncing your leg and jostling the flimsy material of your coverings. 

Thankfully, your Wolf King didn’t make you wait for very long, punctual as always in these recent times of peace in joining you during the evenings. The easy smile he always offered you vanished as soon as he closed the door behind him, eyes locked on your figure clad in so very little.

“Be assertive.” You recalled Ivy’s words, and you stood on shaky legs to take a few tentative steps towards him. The implication was not lost in translation. You could barely get out a greeting before Chan was on you in seconds, gently pushing you back against the wall. He pressed his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, initiating the first indulgent kiss that lit a fire that you felt down to the tips of your toes.

“Then have me,” you said against the purse of his mouth, tongue tracing that full bottom lip. His gaze widened perceptibly, holding you at arm's length.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me the way you want,” you replied. “I’m ready. You love me, don’t you?”

The intensity in that gaze you had started to yearn for burned even brighter. “You know that I love you Y/N, and I understand why it would be hard for you to believe. I’m more than willing to take this chance to show you.”

He pulled away despite the tight grip you kept on his powerful bicep. Even so, you kept your eyes open as wide as possible to enjoy the scene playing out in front of you when he kissed you again. You curled your fingers into his thick black hair, remembering Ivy’s advice, and pulled his mouth against yours, crushing your lips to his. Chan’s chest rumbled as he kissed you fiercely in return, grabbing onto your arms as his tongue plundered the hot cavern of your mouth.   

Your lungs screamed in protest, and you pulled away suddenly, shivering at his resounding whimper. You opened your eyes, keeping your hands in his hair to hold it back from his crimson orbs. You found the lust there, making his eyes appear darker.  “It’s so hard for me to do this,” you said softly. “I- I want to please you…”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Chan replied. He pressed his hips into yours and you felt something hard against your stomach. “Y/N,” Chan murmured, leaning into your neck to inhale deeply. “I want you more than anything else.”

You shivered as you felt his other hand come to the sleeve of your gown, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingertips slid across your skin, weakening your resolve. His lips followed his touch, peppering soft kisses along the exposed skin. He tugged on the fabric more and you felt the fabric at your right breast start to fall, slowly exposing the flesh to him. His blazing eyes looked down at what he had uncovered, as his hand moved up to hold your breast in his palm. You moaned when his thumb started to rub against your nipple, growing alarmed at the sudden ache between your legs. Like before, his lips soon replaced his fingers and you cried out when he gently nipped the sensitive skin.  

He suddenly tugged the fabric back up, releasing your wrists so that he could have both hands when he grabbed the sides of your robe and tugged it aside to reveal your bare skin to him. Your hands fell to your sides as your chest heaved up and down to match each of your panting breaths. Clad in the lingerie Ivy had helped you pick out the previous night. 

Chan’s eyes were glued to your bare torso. With a moan of his own, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he trailed his mouth down, over the soft skin of your throat, down your chest, and between the valley of your breasts, over your smooth stomach down to the top of your lace panties. Looking up at you with hungry, lust-filled eyes, Chan started to tug the fabric down your legs.

Clenching your fists against the wall, you couldn’t begin to describe what you felt when he pressed a kiss against the front of your panties, holding your thighs in his strong hands. Standing back up to his full height, he pulled his shirt off next, tossing it onto the floor. You breathed out deeply as your eyes greedily took in the sight of his muscled torso. Timidly, you reached out a hand, aware of his eyes watching your movements as you hovered your palm over his firm abdomen. “Touch him with your fingertips,” Ivy’s words whispered against your ear. He groaned, bracing his arms on either side of you, moving his head against the wall next to your ear. You heard Chan’s husky voice whisper: “Baby, please touch me.”

Your eyes fluttered at his request, and you placed both palms on his hard stomach, moving them up and feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. Your hands danced across his pectorals, rising along with the muscles. You moved your palms over his shoulders and then back down, pausing when you hit the top of his pants. Before you could muster up the courage to move any lower, Chan’s lips were back on yours, kissing you senseless. You wrapped your arms around his neck, working your mouth against his, feeling your lips become swollen from his kisses. As your tongues touched, you felt Chan’s hands return to your thighs, lifting them so that you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his trim waist. Holding you against him, he carried you into over to the bed to deposit you on top. You missed his warmth as soon as he was gone and opened your eyes to meet his black gaze.

This was your chance. You remembered Ivy’s words and scrambled to get in position. Present. The command burned its way through your whole being as if you had no control over it. Instead, you turned on your hands and knees, arching your back and keeping your ass held high in the air.

You had never done this before, and you felt so exposed, but at the same time so good, so right, and you restrained yourself from trying to cover up against the shameless crimson stare watching you.

Suddenly, all went quiet, prompting you to glance over your shoulder. The Wolf King was staring at your ass, his mouth slightly agape. “Good girl,” was all you heard before Chan dove down abruptly to taste your dripping cunt, dragging his tongue all the way up to the source of the wetness leaking from you with a single, hot swipe, before latching on and sucking eagerly at the sensitive skin around your opening. 

You keened at the sensation and shivered at his satisfied grunts and moans as he took his fill of your taste. It made you want to please him. To do whatever it took to make him completely lose his mind.

“Chan!” You moaned out, reaching beneath him to flick at your neglected clit. “More!” 

Your demand did not go unanswered. With a grunt, Chan yanked your ass up higher for a better angle, digging his hands into the plush flesh of your hips. His touch was rough, and strong, undoubtedly leaving marks behind, but you absolutely loved it. And when the wiggling muscle of his tongue finally pushed inside, you cried out in absolute bliss and pleasure. Time itself seemed to slow down as that tongue relentlessly moved inside you, searching for that spot that could make you see stars and, once found, pressing down hard. Again and again, Chan dipped inside with his tongue, and each time you moaned for him. It didn’t take you long until your body tensed and shuddered, squeezing around the intrusion as you rode out your orgasm. 

With a satisfied groan, Chan released your hips, and you collapsed on your stomach, still aching for him.

You attempted to look back at Chan, groaning when you realized he was pushing down his pants and underwear, freeing his stiffening cock before crawling back over you. You were met with a flurry of kisses, on your lips, your cheeks, and your neck, before his tongue trailed lazily over your chest and down to the delicate curls damp from your release. 

You squirmed under him as he held himself up on his arms, dragging his eyes unbearably slow from your face and down to your toes. He moved one finger down over your stomach, and you watched it enter the forest of blonde curls around your center. Panting, and nearing combustion, you found yourself instinctively thrusting your hips up, begging him for more than just touches. Growling, he practically shoved your hips back to the bed, reaching down and jerking his thick cock with rough strokes. He abruptly flipped you over onto your back, craning his neck to look down into your eyes. “Let me make love to you, Y/N.”

His words sent a flurry of heat straight to your core. You had never had sex before, but you wanted it desperately. You told him as much and could see him visibly shaking. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing your lips tenderly, before reaching down to line himself up at your entrance. You closed your eyes and winced as he pushed into you. Pliant and soft from his earlier ministrations, the bulbous head found little resistance as it breached your cunt.

You could feel his face bury itself into your shoulder, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the bedding, as if it was taking everything he had to go this slow. Once he was buried inside of you completely, you groaned, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. You could feel him still above you, and his teeth teased the skin at your shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” he growled. “It’s taking every ounce of control I have not to flip you over and fuck you senseless.”

His words, as crude as they were, only served to heighten your arousal. “Move,” you said, grabbing his black hair and pulling his face to yours. You kissed him quickly. “I’m fine.”

He needed no further encouragement, as he slowly pulled out before pushing back in. You could see the sweat breaking out across his forehead from the exertion, causing strands of his hair to stick to his forehead. His right hand moved behind you to grip the headboard as his hips slowly rocked against your own. As good as it felt, you could see he was about to lose it. “Faster,” you told him, and he complied, speeding up his thrusts and allowing some of the tension to escape his body. It was a little painful, especially when he let out a low growl and really started grinding his hips.

You could feel it building inside, the pleasure of his rough movements far outweighing the discomfort. You let out another moan as he moved in and out, feeling the smooth friction all the way to the tips of your toes. The Wolf King chose this moment to draw his hips back, dragging his length out to the tip, before slamming it back inside with a powerful thrust, rocking your body to the point that you felt your vision turn white for a moment. Without giving you time to recover, Chan repeated the motion over and over again, speeding up and adjusting the angle to relentlessly hit deep inside, hips bumping your clit with every smooth grind.

He grunted from his efforts, one hand on the headboard while the other came to grab your breast, his lips sucking at your neck. For your part, you arched your back against him, allowing your hips to come up a little to meet his movements as he hit even deeper inside of you, just barely kissing your cervix. Your fingernails scraped down the smooth skin of his back at this new angle. He moaned when your nails dug into his flesh, bringing his lips up to yours and you kissed him feverishly, tasting him like your life depended on it. One of your hands curled into his smooth black hair while the other gripped his bicep tightly, sighing happily as you felt the muscles move.  

You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to not feel overwhelmed by all of the things he was making you feel. Buried deep inside of you, you could feel him hit all the right spots, sending waves of pleasure to your tight center. Meanwhile, his lips were working magic against yours, leaving you breathless.  

You could feel an intimate warmth building inside of you the longer he snapped his hips against yours. Groaning, you let out a cry as you felt something inside of you break open, releasing wave after wave of heat through your core, leaving your body drowning in pleasure.  

There was a haze of lightheadedness clogging your senses, and you almost didn’t even realize the swell pushing against your ass, until it breached your core. “Chan!” you hissed at the combination of pain and overwhelming pressure, retreating and then swelling again as he ground that hot mass against you.

“My knot,” he groaned, and you could feel the heat from his chest against your breasts as he pressed even closer. 

You vaguely recalled Ivy warning you about this, telling you that it would be hard to prepare for the massive instrution. You felt a spike of fear as it stretched you even further, and you worried that your virgin body would suffer. All you could do was grit your teeth and bury your head into the blankets beneath you, feeling the swell of his knot pressed against the cleft of your ass. You fisted the sheets between your hands. He would split you in half, and then you would be nothing.

“Y/N!” he growled, slowing his hips to a timid roll as his knot locked between you both, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt his release flood your insides, filling you to the point that your lower stomach had started to swell from his cum. 

He groaned as you both came down from your highs, and you gently petted your finger through his unruly curls. He experimentally rolled his hips to test how firmly the knot was locking him inside and it wouldn’t budge. Your cunt squeezed the knot, eliciting another grunt from Chan, another twitch, and another spurt of hot cum inside of you.

The pop didn’t swell until Chan was fully seated, his thick cock barely able to seat itself fully between your pulsating walls. It was a painful stretch, of course, but you were hardly focused on it.

Chan continued to hump against you, long after his release and teetering on the cusp of oversensitivity, but those seductive hips had lost their rhythm. It was only moments later, as Chan pulled away from your lips and buried his face into your chest, that he growled when something warm filled your center. You let your hand wander down his spine, stroking along the individuals knots. You could feel him breathing hard above you, and you tried to soothe him back to normal.

You were locked together for a long time, and you were almost asleep when Chan was finally able to pull out, collapsing onto the mattress next to you, looking up at the ceiling. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly until you could barely see it move at all, signifying his return from his high. Your own breaths came out much shorter, and you were aware of the sweat that coated your skin. 

You watched as Chan ran his hand through his dark hair, moving it out of his face. Looking over at you, he turned on his side and used one hand to bring you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist. You hummed in delight as your chests pressed together, moving in sync with each other. Chan’s eyes scanned over your face as he leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I love you Y/N,” he said. voice rumbling. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You were barely coherent, collapsed against the sheets with a line of drool pooling out from your mouth. Closing your eyes, you let your head fall against his chest, savoring his warmth.  “I trust you,” you said softly, and you could feel him sigh in relief. Simply holding you against him, surrounded by his warmth, you suddenly felt very much like you belonged.

“You and I have always been destined,” Chan whispered, and for the first time since you had taken your place as his Wolf Queen, you weren’t afraid.

Instead, you were irrevocably alive.

#stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x you #bang chan #bang chan smut #chan smut #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x female reader #chan oneshot #bang chan oneshot #chan imagines

[honeykaes]

le sacrifice du sang

vampire!neuvillette x reader II 2.6k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, vampire au, set in 17th century esc france, blood, biting, ritual sex, self harm (neuvillette cuts his wrist for the ritual), soulmate, xenophobia, praise, creampies, monsterfucking adjacent, unedited

synopsis: for decades the village has been thriving despite the vampiric armies ravaging throughout europe. Cast aside for being an outsider, you are deemed as a sacrifice to a vampire lord to stop the attacks in the region.

Night seemed endless. Most days you would barely see the sun bright outside under the sky. All you could do was sigh, shifting on the soft sheets of the grandiose bed you rested in. A long chiffon nightgown covered your form and rested right at your ankles. You balled your fists on the ornate patterns of the comforter of the bed, golden and navy threads showing off just how much it was worth.

You turned your head to the stained glass window seeing the sun hiding behind the horizon and stars beginning to peak out in the darkening sky—the multicolor light pigmented in blues and purples reflected on the ground as its shadow grew signaling the fleeting light.

Part of you is surprised you're up so early in your new sleep schedule but another part of you questions why you’re even alive right now to look outside the stained glass window. Three weeks ago you were set to die, yet you have lived in the lap of luxury.

All because of him.

Vampires have been ravaging Europe for a few decades now, causing an all-out war in some regions of the land. Your family insisted on heading there despite it, as traders would surely flourish against the nobles desperate for supplies and your nativity allowed you to follow them. 

Trying to settle and trade in Europe began in disaster as xenophobia grew rapid—war, fear, and prejudices clouding their judgment. You lost your family very early on when you arrived in Europe, losing a lot and trying to scour and try to collect wherever you could to mourn and live. France became the best option to live in since the fighting was beginning to cease in the country.

In the southeast part of the region, you settled in a village. You remained there for five years, trying to make ends meet as a seamstress. You always wondered why vampires didn’t attack and slaughter you and the rest of the village as you heard others had faced. The village had not seen an inkling of the dissipating war around it, and you later discovered why.

To appease the vampiric lords and ladies of France, human sacrifices were commenced—one to save all. You weren’t completely sure who the lord of this area even was, yet you were about to find out after the Judge of the town deemed yourself as the sacrifice.

You begged, you pleaded, you cried but no one in the town so much as pitied you. In their eyes, you were an outsider; someone even more worthy of being sacrificed than “one of their own”. Bullshit is what you wanted to say but you didn’t have the power to defy it.

That man eventually collected you after, the lord of the southern region of France—Monsieur Neuvillette. When he descended, in navy and black, you thought he was an angel and thought the village already killed you thinking he was an angel instead. 

He didn’t seem human at all. 

Long white hair cascaded down his back and lowly tied towards the end with streaks of gradient blue flowing through it. His lavender eyes, pupil slit, and irises glowing, drinking up every unconscious tick and stubble expression in your body and face. His face was stern, but his eyes seemed kind.

He asked you one question that night.

“What is your name, dear?” 

You answered as his eyes softened, lifting his hand to your eyes to cover your gaze

“Then, (Y/n). I’m sorry circumstances have brought us here.”

Darkness was all you were faced with. In a way, you thought death had arrived, only to wake up in a beautifully decorated room in a château when you awoke.

Neuvillette was kind albeit stoic during your time in his château. Many nights, you’d have dinner with him—his eyes just on you as he quietly drank his silver chalice filled with the iron-rich stench of blood from someone who wasn’t you.

Those nights he would reveal more information about himself and you’d do the same. He told you how he was a lord and has been “in this state” for several millennia. He told you about the rise and fall of empires and even vampiric ones history had all but forgotten. 

Neuvillette also discussed how most of the sacrifices ended up working as servants in the château who he called “Melusines”. 

In the second week since your “sacrifice”, he also mentioned another vampire lord living in this château—Lady Furina. He talked about how eager she was to interact with her subjects, including yourself but he had told her to stay away from you for now as her bloodlust was unpredictable.

But one slip of the tongue had changed the casual conversation into something more serious.

“...She is not to bother you, yet. Not before you are turned at the least.”

Your eyebrow furrowed, lips parting hearing him say those words. Turning? Turning into what?

“What do you mean by that…” you questioned. He placed his chalice down, closing his eyes briefly to collect his thoughts before crossing his arms.

“I apologize. I have neglected to inform you about this since I wanted you to get adjusted to your new life here first,” he murmured. You clenched your jaw, trying to read his stoic expression but it was the same as it’s always been. 

“I admit I played a role in why the Judge had chosen you specifically. When you first settled in the village, your scent informed me that you were my mate. My soulmate,” he replied. You couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing in shock. 

“Smell me? Soulmate? What does that even mean, Neuvillette?! I thought vampires only were interested in other vampires and humans were seen as food. That’s why there’s a war in the rest of Europe after all,” you shouted. He did not flinch at your raising pitch in tone. He gave a small humorless laugh at your words.

“That’s not exactly true. A curse befalls vampires and those with vampiric natures in more than one way than ‘evolving’ from their human characteristics. The same people many see as food can be the only chance to find their mate. Whether unconsciously or not we are always searching, our body craves the touch and affection only our mates can give us, soothing one might say, the soul,” he revealed.

You look down at your plate, half-eaten cake on it before gently pushing it away. There was a pause where no one said anything, but you were sure he could hear your heartbeat thumping rapidly in your chest.

“...Are you scared? Do you need some time to process this? We can save the rest of this conversation later,” Neuvillette discussed. You swallowed, trying to ease the dryness that caught your throat suddenly but refused to look him in his eyes for now.

“H-How would this process work exactly? I’m guessing vampires and mortal humans don't mix well,” you muttered. Neuvillette sighed, grunting in agreement.

“Well. There’s a ritual in a sense to create a bond between each party’s body and soul. The ritual entails copulation and when my fangs pierce your skin in the process. It will signal to both your body and soul that your bond with me has been found and eventually your physiology will adjust into something more like me.”

“...Something that of a vampire,” you whispered, looking up at him. He silently nodded as silence befell the two of you for now. Neuvillette let out a heavy sigh, but the corners of his lips curved into a small smile to try to ease the pain you were faced with.

“I recognize this is a lot for any human to face, so please take as much time as you need. There is no rush, so process however long it will take,” he said, rising from his seat and leaving you alone with the crackling fire in the dining room. 

It had been a year since that night he revealed himself as your soulmate. A year to finally process and accept your fate. You chuckled to yourself finally seeing the sun’s light completely disappear and the moon rising brightly in the sky.

Tonight you would mourn your mortality.

A knock at the door snapped you out of your thoughts and memories before you called out they could enter. Neuvillette walked in, wearing his own nightgown falling to his ankle, body completely covered in the white chiffon fabric. He stood by the door still, letting you have your space that was resting on the bed.

“Are you sure you are ready? We can wait later to do this. I can wait,” Neuvillette murmured. You flashed a shaky smile before sighing.

“Yes. I am Neuvillette. I promise,” you replied. Neuvillette walked over until he was in front of you, long fingers clasping gently as your chin before lifting it up. Your lips parted in shock gazing into his eyes that softened.

“I’m going to ask one more time, are you sure you’re ready,” he asked, voice low and husky. Your body trembled at the tone of his voice before you slowly nodded your head—you could hear your eardrums echoing out the beat of your quickening heart. 

You slowly lifted your nightgown off and the fabric pools on the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable to his gaze and touch. He followed, letting his nightgown fall onto the floor. His body was more muscular than you thought based on the attire you usually saw him adorning in the halls. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks.

Neuvillette softly smiles leaning in to press his lips against your own. He soon is on top of you, the bed creaked as the weight of two bodies pressed against it. His lips were soft, easily molding on your own while ever so often a sharp pain would poke at your bottom lip. 

“If I’m being honest, I never thought I would experience this. You don’t know how long I waited for this...how I longed for you,” he whispered, as his lips eventually left your own, settling in the nape of your neck. Your body trembled as Neuvillette let his fangs graze against the sensitive skin while his hand traveled down and squeezed the plush of your thighs. 

He finally finds your cunt, cupping his hand at it as he continues to nipple and his along your neck. He soon applied pressure and your hips instinctively began to grind trying to get a lick of friction to brush against your needy clit. Feeling you grind on his hand made Neuvillette chuckle before he opened his eyes admiring the slick now clinging to his palm.

“So pliable under my touch, I’m glad you're enjoying yourself,” he whispered in your ear, hearing another moan rip from your mouth. He soon shifted his position; his thumb now firmly pressed against the nub of your clit pressing tight circles on it. Your form began to twist and your hips shifted as Neuvillette’s hand followed every movement, not budging his focused ministrations once.

His other thumb brushed against your pebbled nibbles, relishing in the way your body jolted from the various sensations. Your breathing became heavy, feeling your entire body flutter inching closer and closer to your high.

“Neuvillette. Neuvillette…I’m—” you groaned out before suddenly Neuvillette completely stopped. You snapped your eyes open in surprise, looking over at him perplexed as his gaze softened and lips tugged in a smile.

“Why did you stop…?” you whispered, puzzled by his actions. Neuvillette leaned in to kiss your forehead while cleaning the slick clinging to his fingers on his thighs as it smeared.

“I needed to make sure you were prepared for me. The ritual unfortunately cannot work if you lose yourself to my fingers, mon cœur. Unless you preferred to wait as I asked earlier,” Neuvillette hummed. You bite your lip, in embarrassment as Neuvillette grasped his cock.

It’s thick, and long and the only vein you could see ran along the base of it. His cock curled up and twitched every few seconds, eager for attention. He let out a grunt, pumping his cock a few times as his tip—flushed pale pink—budded with precum. He rested his length against your slit, letting it slide up and down and gathering the arousal drooling out of your cunt. He let his tip tap against your stimulated clit causing you to shiver before he nestled it against your entrance once more.

As he pushed the tip inside of you, he leaned down, capturing your lips once more before sinking his cock further inside of you. Your nails harpoon against his broad back and you widen your legs wider trying to adjust to his length. Your walls burned at the stretch, trying your best not to tense up as he descended further inside of you.

Finally bottoming out, he slowly slid out before plunging in once more, thrusting with meticulous but strong strokes. Your body moved to his pace, bed beginning to moan and creak while hitting against the wall. 

He grunted louder in the kiss, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to contain himself. He leaned up as you tried catching your breath, stammering his name as his breathing became heavier while his thrusts became faster.

Neuvillette parted his mouth to let his fangs elongate before they buried themselves in the nape of your neck. You yelped, sucking a sharp breath in as the pain of his bite throbbed and shot throughout your entire body. You could hear him gulp and moan, sucking the river of blood pouring down at the wound while he continued to rut inside of you.

“Neuvillette…” you whispered out. It was strange. The pain had somehow subsided and your body felt much lighter and aware of his touch and thrusts, trembling in newly found sensitivity and pleasure. It was as if the bite was an aphrodisiac.

Were all bites like this or was it because he claimed to be your soulmate?

He lifted his head, lower face bloodied from the meal he was indulging in—your humanity. His tongue seemed longer, letting it rest against the wound before taking a long stride up to lap up the rest of the blood dripping from the punctures.

Your walls fluttered down on his cock as your writhed, Neuvillette continued to buck—desperate to sink even further inside of you. He sucked a breath in, struggling to keep up with his pace as your walls continued to cave and clamp down.

Neuvillette's hands find themselves beneath you, squeezing the globes of your ass before lifting your bottom half in an attempt to plunge deeper inside of you. His eyes narrowed watching his cock stretch and disappear in your cunt.

“That’s it…you're almost there. Let me see you come undone. Let’s begin our lives together for eternity in the darkness…” Neuvillette muttered, clenching his jaw tight. You squirmed, tears pricking your eyes as you finally reached your high—body shivering and back arching while calling out his name repeatedly. Your walls quivering from your climax were enough for Neuvillette to follow.

He snapped his eyes shut, hips flattering letting ropes of his thick cum shoot inside of it. He slowly thrust, pushing it deeper, trying to nurse his body down from his high. A trial of his essence managed to leak out, and travel to your inner thighs despite his cock still plugged inside of you.

“Just one more step…please bear with me and stay away,” Neuvillette whispered, placing your hips down on the bed once more. His nails, sharper than before, quickly shut themselves on his wrist—his blood dripping down his forearm. Your eyes and body felt so heavy, your body feeling like your heart was slowing down before you noticed him hovering his injured wrist above your mouth.

Droplets of blood trickled down your chest and chin before finally landing in your open mouth.

As you swallowed, your eyes widened feeling an unknown rush flowing throughout your body replenishing your once tired body so suddenly.

“It…it doesn’t taste like iron, but as if your blood is the purest spring water…”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette imagines #neuvillette scenarios #kinktober 2023

[koqabear]

Wish Me Luck?

♫: Wake Up In The Sky, Bruno Mars

“In which working with these two makes your life impossible— because they’re annoying, and won’t leave you alone— you try your best to ignore them but sometimes, it’s too tempting.”

hueningkai x fem!reader x taehyun

Genre: pwp, rockstar au, makeup artist!reader, smut

Word count: 6.2K

Warnings: genuinely like.. none, i think. 

Smut Warnings: dom!tae, dom!huening, sub!mc, threesome, unprotected sex, they’re both pervs sorry, use of mirrors(?), pet names (pretty, doll, cutie, etc.) dry humping, slight marking, handjob, fingering, hair pulling, spanking, praise, masturbation, slight exhibitionism?, multiple orgasms, creampie(s), lmk if i should add anything!

Notes: part of a rockstar!txt mini series. lowkey gave up on formatting so if shows don’t tell me. anyways! happy birthday to my bf huening 😁 again this was like… barely edited so it’s a little uhh… idk. enjoy, hopefully..

There are many perks that come with the rockstar lifestyle— money, clothes, fame, women.

Taehyun tries to take advantage of it all— and he has, though he finds that the last perk is reserved for someone more… special. 

Taehyun is currently in his favorite place to be before a concert— the makeup station, of course. This could mean many things for him; a chance for him to rest, a relaxing time to get his hair and makeup done, able to get perfectly dolled up just for him to ruin it all during his shows. 

But that’s not the reasoning at all— rather, his reasoning lies with the pretty makeup artist who, unfortunately, is not tending to him today. 

It takes a bit of enjoyment out of the experience— however, he will say that he’s not complaining about the view he’s getting now, watching the way you tend to Kai and touch his face as though he’s made of glass with a fond smile; before he can control himself, his eyes fall to the cute skirt you’re wearing today, a tug of guilt hitting his stomach at the way he feels slightly disappointed upon the realization that they have built-in safety shorts— what can he say? It was always a total accident when he looked over to you bent over, pretty ass on display as you worked diligently on the member assigned. 

Hueningkai, Taehyun notices, definitely isn’t faring well with your proximity to him. Unlike Taehyun, who’s always dying to get his hands on you and keep you to himself, Hueningkai has always preferred to watch from a distance— so to have you here, taking over his senses with the alluring perfume you use and feeling your delicate fingers brush against his skin as you do his makeup— well, safe to say Hueningkai is practically meditating to not pop a boner then and there. 

“___, have you been busy? I barely see you around anymore,” Taehyun asks, peeking up from his phone and over to the next chair where you continue to meddle with Hueningkai, standing back to observe your work before you’re jumping at the sound of your name. 

“Well, I’ve been assigned to the rookie group the company debuted, you know,” you sigh out, having had this conversation more times than you can remember as you reach to brush away a stray hair from Hueningkai’s forehead; you watch as his eyes flutter shut and his brows twitch, and you wonder if you may have irritated him as you press your lips together. 

“That’s unfair…” Taehyun pouts softly, pretending as though his phone is much more interesting as he continues to sneak glances at you, eyes darkening at how cute you look while concentrating, not paying attention to Taehyun’s words as you begin applying lip tint to Hueningkai, “They’re taking my makeup artist away from me, I don’t like this one bit.”

“I’m not your makeup artist,” you fuss, sighing in exasperation as you take a step back from Hueningkai; you tell him to open his eyes as you take in the final result, smiling softly in satisfaction as you observe your work on him— looking at Taehyun, you cross your arms, frowning at the way you catch him staring at you already, “I’m the company’s makeup artist. Who I get assigned to work on is entirely up to them, so I don’t get why you’re acting like this right now.”

“Is it wrong to want a pretty girl to do my makeup?” He asks, and your face twists as you watch his current makeup artist throw an incredulous glance your way— just as you’re about to turn and leave, you’re surprised to find Hueningkai grabbing your wrist and pulling you back to him. 

“My hair,” he mumbles quietly, so soft you almost missed it— you lean down to try and hear him better, unaware of the way his eyes dart down to your low neckline and your lips that pout in concentration, “Can you fix it? It’s… different now.”

As far as you’re concerned, he looks completely fine; you’re quick to tell him that as well, only to see as he insists that it was different before you worked on his makeup. 

“Well if you want, I can go get your hairdresser—“ you begin, only to stop short at the feeling of Hueningkai’s grip tightening slightly. 

“But you can do it, no?”

God, these two were impossible. 

Their behavior was nothing new to you, and you oftentimes found yourself the victim of teasing as your coworkers poked fun at the way the two seemed to be attached to you like lost puppies— you always tried to refute such claims, but the way they constantly wanted you around them really didn’t help. 

“You can do it, ___,” Taehyun says, and you feel a bit bad for his makeup artist as he moves to look at you, “Gives us an excuse to keep you here a bit longer.”

Out of the two, Taehyun is much more blunt— but that doesn’t mean you’re used to it, feeling your face grow hot at his words as you attempt once more to run away— it’s all in vain of course, because Hueningkai is tugging you back and giving you a look that almost makes your knees buckle.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this.

“Please.”

Nothing about that is a request. He looks up at you with lidded, dazed eyes, and you find yourself complying hesitantly the longer he looks at you like he’ll devour you any second. You don’t even know what he wants his hair to look like— so you go with his usual ruffled look, his long dark hair soft under your fingers as you stand in front of him and run through the locks with mousse. 

You try to keep a straight face the whole time; even when Taehyun continues to make baiting comments at you, complimenting you with a deep purr as he tries to get your attention back on him— even as you feel the way Hueningkai can’t take his eyes off you, much bolder than usual as you bite your lip and hover over him, quick hands desperate to finish his styling. 

Your hands freeze in his hair as you feel something warm on the back of your thigh. 

That something warm serves as Hueningkai’s hand, resting on your skin as he simply continues to look up at you innocently, chewing his gum and tilting his head as though to ask what’s wrong? 

You try to contain the shiver that runs through you as his thumb begins to softly caress your skin, venturing under the cloth of your safety shorts for a moment before he’s moving it back down.

“Something wrong?” Taehyun drawls out, and a glance at him shows that his makeup artist has left— it’s just you three, and your brows knit together as you take in the way his makeup isn’t done yet, “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You’re shaken out of your reverie at his words; putting the finishing touches, you step away from Hueningkai, feeling the way his hand is reluctant to leave your skin, his arm falling limply at his side as he stares at you with hungry curiosity. 

“I think I’m done here,” you breathe out, attempting to hide your shaky hands as you place them behind your back, “Make sure you’re changed and ready in time for the show.”

Bowing politely, you make your way to the exit— only to be stopped the moment you pass Taehyun, an exasperated sound leaving you involuntarily as he takes your hand and tugs you back to him. 

“Are you done?” he asks, sparkly eyes not enough to conceal his mischief as he tilts his head to the side, “There’s nothing missing here?”

Of course something is missing. Taehyun doesn’t have his lip tint on, but you refuse to point it out as you hum softly, pretending to be in thought for a second before you finally shake your head no.

“No?” he pouts— he’s then puckering his lips, nodding his head toward you and sending you a kiss as he smiles coyly, “Are you sure?”

“You seem to be missing…” you grit out, watching as he raises his brows expectantly, as though encouraging you to finish your train of thought, “Your lip…tint.”

“Oh. You think so?” he asks, looking back at the mirror and swiping a finger across his lips before he hums, “Could you do it for me, please? I’ve always loved how you left my lips all pretty.”

You’re inhaling slowly to not turn on your heels and run away— not because you don’t want to do your job, but because you’re anxious about what might happen if you’re left alone in a room with these two for a moment longer; all you know is that if the way they look at you serves as any indicator, then they’re definitely up to no good.

“My lips always look like candy with the combo you use,” he continues, watching as you go to the vanity to search for the products you usually use for him— after a moment, you’re turning to him, products in one hand a small lip brush in the other— your eyes meet his, and you’re slightly startled with the way he suddenly leans forward, eerily close to you as his eyes flicker down to the way your lips part in a silent gasp, “Don’t you think so?”

“I’ve never thought of it like that,” you mutter swiftly, immediately getting to work in hopes that Taehyun can just shut up for once— he does, but you’re still left at the mercy of his intense stare, trying to pretend as though his proximity isn’t enough to make you feel nervous.

“You look really pretty today ___,” It’s Hueningkai’s turn to torment you— if you weren’t so focused on Taehyun, you would’ve scoffed, opting instead to let out a noncommittal hum instead. 

“Are you doing anything after the show?”

He says that as you’re finally stepping away from Taehyun; silently, you’re happy for the timing of his words, because you know that you would’ve messed up Taehyun’s makeup from your surprise— which would’ve meant you staying longer to fix it. 

“No,” you say, refusing to elaborate even if their curious stares silently plead you to— turning around, you continue to ignore them as you put your stuff away, pretending as though you weren’t rushing in hopes to leave quicker. 

“Taehyun and I are going out for drinks after to celebrate the end of the tour,” He says quietly, and you make the mistake of looking up at him through the mirror— he’s looking at you of course, though the way his dark makeup only makes his eyes look more intense doesn’t help you at all— softly, he smiles. 

“You should come with. Our treat.”

“Oh, I— I don’t know, I don’t wanna be a bother,” you stutter out, your nonchalant demeanor beginning to slip the moment you see them stand up behind you, shaky hands rushing to zip your makeup case shut, “I should really get going now, you two still need to change—“

“Yeah, but what’s the rush?” You’re fucking trapped— they stand on either side of you, looming dangerously and looking at you as though you’re nothing but a treat for them to devour— you can feel their breaths fanning on each side of your neck as you attempt to close yourself off pathetically, trying to take a step back before you feel two hands on you— one on the small of your back, the other on your hip as they both push you back against the vanity; the startled yelp you let out is embarrassing, your hands flying down to support yourself from how firmly they push you forward. 

“We have well over an hour to finish getting ready,” Taehyun breathes out, lips brushing against your jaw as he lets out a soft sigh, “And that’s a lot of time, isn’t it?”

Hueningkai hums in agreement; his hand is the one on your hip as it rubs soothing circles, leaning down to where you hang your head and sending you a misleading smile.

“We should do something to pass the time.”

God, were they always this close? They’re filling your senses and making you dizzy, your hands beginning to ache from how hard you’re gripping the edge of the vanity as you simply gulp in response. Their lips are soft and fucking sticky from the gloss you just put on them, leaving kiss marks along your skin as they kiss you softly, mumbling compliments and praise that you can barely get through your head from how dizzy you feel. 

“Do you know that we try to request you for every show?” Taehyun asks, watching the way your eyes flutter shut as Hueningkai begins to trail kisses down your neck, open-mouthed and sultry as he nips at your skin teasingly, “Some bullshit about you knowing our complexion best— don’t get us wrong, you do, but…”

“You’re like a lucky charm,” Hueningkai finishes for him, pulling away and bringing a hand up to grab at your chin, tilting you to look at him as he stares at you with lidded eyes, “The show won’t go well if our pretty makeup artist isn’t here with us.”

You whimper— and shit, it’s humiliating, your cheeks growing hot immediately after as you wish nothing more than to dig a hole for yourself then and there— but oh, their words are so hypnotizing to you, speaking about you like you’re something they can’t live without, touching you like they’re starved and desperate to get a taste.

And judging by the way they look at you, they definitely are. 

“Sometimes… we wonder if it’s enough, just getting a look at you before we go on stage,” Hueningkai says, and it’s Taehyun’s turn to nod along and leave teasing touches, his hand playing with the hem of your shirt as he noses at your throat, taking in your scent with a satisfied sigh.

“I think it’d be nice if you wished us luck tonight,” Hueningkai says, tilting his head as he gives you a puppy-eyed look, “Don’t you wanna?”

Fuck. You can’t think straight, not when they’re taking up your space, unable to keep their hands and lips off you as they wait not-so-innocently for your response. Shutting your eyes, you try to move past the warm and welcoming feeling of their hands to think.

“This is dangerous,” you finally spit out, biting your lip at the way they immediately back off, “You could get in trouble— I could lose my job.”

“Oh please,” Taehyun scoffs, sitting back against the vanity as he crosses his arms, “The company doesn’t care about what we do in our private life— you’ve seen the way the others can get with their little groupies, right?”

You mull over his words for a second; it’s no secret that this band is very active and reckless, though you suppose the company has taken advantage of that and began to use it as their image halfway through their career— at least, that must be the case if they’re able to advance on you so boldly, the rest of your coworkers unfazed by the whole situation. 

“But— my job—?”

“You think none of these other people that work here haven’t fooled around with their groups?” Taehyun asks, the incredulous smile on his face quickly turning to a pout as he coos at the innocent, wide-eyed look you give him, “They know how to keep a secret, pretty— so do we.”

This is ridiculous— even more so because you find yourself considering it, quickly shaking your head upon the sobering realization— though, the two are keen to notice the way you have yet to try and scurry away from them like always. 

“Don’t you feel tired of being so uptight all the time?” Huening asks, your head snapping up to watch as he places his hands on your shoulders, hovering behind you as he massages them gently, “We could help you relax. Have some fun, even.”

The two try to keep it cool the moment you lean into Hueningkai’s touch— though, you can still pick up on the way Taehyun’s eyes widen and Hueningkai’s hands freeze for just a second, your eyes threatening to shut from the way you remain too shy to gauge their reactions. 

“Won’t someone come in?”

In response, they laugh— poor thing, they think, glancing back at the door that got locked long ago, if they were finally going to get their hands on you, the last thing they would do is allow someone else to see. 

“No one will come in right now— we’re supposed to be changing, aren’t we?” Hueningkai says, smiling against your skin as he continues, “It’d be an invasion of privacy to try and come in now.”

They grin at the way you remain silent, clearly lost in thought by their words.

“Want us to treat you good?” Taehyun asks, placing a hand on your waist before he’s leaning in, his lips brushing against yours as he lets out a shaky breath, “Thank you for your hard work?”

Finally you break. 

“Please.”

Taehyun is a messy kisser— though, you don’t find yourself to be too surprised, always more eager out of the two to get his hands on you as he begins to kiss you with abandon— his hand cupping your jaw to keep you close, tongue prodding your mouth open and sharp teeth sinking into your plush lips teasingly; behind you, Hueningkai has moved his hands to your hips, pulling you back and forcing your back to arch as you feel him begin to rut his cock into you slowly, dark eyes taking in the way you only whine and moan under their touch. 

“Fuck, let me use those pretty hands, baby,” Taehyun sighs against your lips, guiding you down to his hard bulge and smiling against your lips the moment you begin to palm him; you’re slow and unsure with your movements, but that only makes Taehyun needier as he begins to rut his length against your palm, eager to get stimulation as he places his hand on top of yours to guide you to hold him through his sweats.

“Is playing hard to get fun for you?” Hueningkai asks, his voice low and rough as he plays with the hem of your shorts, pulling at the waistband before letting it go and allowing it to snap against your skin, “I can feel you soaking through your shorts— so fucking needy, why have you been avoiding us so long?”

You don’t have half the brain to answer that question; not when Taehyun has slipped your hand under his sweats and Hueningkai currently pulls down your skirt, leaving you exposed as you hold Taehyun’s cock and allow him to fuck into your first with shaky breaths against your lips. 

Trying to avoid them was such a stupid decision— because if it meant you could have these two boys like this sooner, drunk off your touch and desperate to take even more from you, you would’ve given in to their cheeky comments and shameless flirting long ago. 

Hueningkai’s fingers are slender and long as they glide up and down your slit; pressing against your panties, taking in the way you’ve soaked through them with a deep satisfaction as he lets out a breathy laugh. His middle and ring finger press at your entrance, listening to the way you whine and almost letting out a groan at the way you wiggle your hips and press them back in hopes of feeling him inside you. 

“Waited so long for this,” Hueningkai breathes out, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties and pulling them down sloowwly, watching as you whine impatiently before you’re stepping out of your garments— You pull away from Taehyun, staring down at the way he bucks into your fist and missing the way he bites his lip to suppress a laugh at the sight of Hueningkai pocketing your soaked panties. 

“Wanted to fuck you the moment you got assigned to us— our pretty makeup artist,” Hueningkai sighs, placing a kiss in between your shoulder blades before he’s fucking his fingers into you, jaw clenching at the way you suck in his fingers and tighten around him pathetically, the wet sounds that come from his shallow thrusts enough to have your head hanging with pleasure. 

“Do you…” you sigh, letting out a soft whine as Taehyun takes a handful of your hair and forces your head back up, clearing your throat in a weak attempt to continue as the said man now begins to kiss and suck softly at your neck, careful to not leave any marks, “Do this to… fuck, every crew member you think is attractive? Mess with them shamelessly and try to corner them so you can finally fuck them? …Hmm?”

Hueningkai’s index finger is tracing your entrance teasingly— he laughs softly at your comment, choosing not to say anything as he stretches you out with a third finger instead; he’s curling his fingers and grinding his hand into your cunt, taking in your expression with hungry eyes and noting the places that make your legs shake. 

“You think we do this to just anyone?” Taehyun asks, brows furrowed as he pulls away, taking in the way you wince at his appearance— more specifically, his lip tint that has smudged all over his lips and chin and onto your skin, “Baby, I hope you realize that you’re the first person we’ve ever pulled this shit on.”

“And the last,” Hueningkai chimes in, looming over your shoulder as he bites at your earlobe teasingly, his other hand circling your waist to rub at your clit, “We plan to keep you.”

God. You hope he didn’t notice the way you clenched pathetically from his words, but judging by the way he laughs breathily and fucks his fingers harder into you, he definitely did. 

“Shit, what aren’t these hands good for?” Taehyun asks, watching the way you pump along his length and reach up to swipe the precum that leaks from his tip, spreading it along the rest of his length as you watch the way your hand glistens and becomes messy from your actions, “You have no idea how much I thought about this— always felt so guilty watching as you did my makeup so innocently, unaware that I’d give up my job if it meant I could— I could bend you over this vanity and fuck you good.”

“Did you ever fantasize about us?” Hueningkai teases, only to be surprised by the way you nod your head frantically, eyes shutting from embarrassment as you grind your hips back into him, just to get a feel of his cock against your ass, “Yeah? What’d you think about? Maybe we could make it happen.”

You shake your head no— you’re reluctant to spew out your fantasies as easily as the two are, but that only proves to be a mistake from the way Hueningkai’s fingers slip out of you, instead landing down harshly on your ass as you jump at the sudden feeling. 

“What, too shy to tell us?” Taehyun asks, placing a hand on top of your own and making you slow to a stop as he examines your face, “Then again, you’ve always been a shy little thing— it’s your charm, you know.”

You can only let out a pathetic whimper at that; Taehyun is shaking your hand off him, your eyes fluttering open as you watch him tuck himself back in, giving you a sly smile before he’s sitting back down in his chair— Hueningkai is taking a step back, but it’s only to bend you over as he lets out a soft chuckle at your reaction— nodding to Hueningkai, Taehyun grins, his dimple poking at his cheek as he speaks.

“You first, Kai? I’ll give you the honors for being so patient.”

Your mouth is falling open the moment you feel his tip glide along your entrance— going up and down, clearly teasing you as he allows your wetness to collect on his dick, forcing you to listen to the sounds as you let out a shaky sigh, staring down at the vanity and your tense hands that are curled into fists— slowly, he begins to push into you, enjoying the way you bite your lip in an attempt to muffle your sounds, failing to do so as Hueningkai resorts to the next best thing— his hand is firm against your mouth as he holds your head up, your eyes meeting his through the mirror as you watch him begin to fuck you slowly.

The stretch has you blinking away tears of pleasure— if it weren’t for Hueningkai keeping you quiet, you’re sure you would’ve gotten the attention of the rest of the crew, your sounds muffled against the palm of his hand as your body begins to jolt forward from his pace, the vanity shaking slightly from the impact. 

“Fuck,” Hueningkai grunts, brows furrowed together as he watches himself disappear inside you, “So perfect. Pussy was made for me, look how good you take it.”

The two only laugh as you let out a weak whine at the praise— they’ve got you figured out good, and you’re meeting Taehyun’s gaze through the mirror as you catch him staring at you, stroking his cock at a slow pace as he simply gives you a teasing grin.

“Why don’t you watch the way Huening fucks you, pretty?” He asks, and your eyes flicker back to the sight he’s talking about, meeting Huenigkai’s eyes as he simply sends you a coy smile, “You look so perfect like this— bent over the desk like a pretty doll, perfect for us to use… isn’t that right?”

Before you can moan out a muffled response, a sharp knock on the door takes your attention; you’re jolting to try and get Huening off you in a hurry, but the boy merely retaliates by pulling you back against him, colliding against his chest and letting out a weak whimper at the feeling of him rutting his hips up into you— watch, he growls into your ear, grinning with satisfaction as you immediately follow his orders.

“Yeah?” Taehyun calls out, his tone much too casual for someone who’s watching his fellow band member fuck the cute staff member the two have been pining for. 

“Have you seen ___ anywhere? The makeup artist?” It’s Soobin, you all realize, your reaction of horror greatly contrasting the way the two merely smile casually at the realization, “They’ve been looking for her, and I thought you two would know where she might be.”

“Uhhhhm…” Taehyun draws out, crossing his arms and tilting his head as he watches the way Hueningkai continues to fuck you, fingers digging into your cheeks as his eyes widen at the way you’ve begun to squirm from his grip, your orgasm approaching as you try to grind your hips in search for more stimulation. 

“If we knew where she was at, we’d probably be there bothering her,” Taehyun jokes, a crooked smile on his face as he listens to the way Soobin scoffs on the other side, “But seriously, we’re changing right now. She finished our makeup a while ago, we haven’t seen her.”

A moment passes; you think you might explode from how hard you’re trying to hold back your orgasm, but Hueningkai seems to be hellbent on making you cum from the way his free hand goes to circle your clit, your mouth falling open as you practically shake from the feeling. 

“Well…” another pause— Soobin sighs, and Taehyun can already picture the man running a hand through his hair on the other side of the door, “Let me know if you find her.”

After a moment, his footsteps fade entirely— it’s only then that Hueningkai bends you over once more, grabbing your hips and using this as leverage to fuck you back into him as you whimper that you’re close— seconds after, you’re squeezing Hueningkai so hard he thinks his cock might slip out, fucking you through your orgasm as your legs simply tremble from the intensity of it all. 

“Did that get you off, baby?” Hueningkai murmurs, his hips beginning to stutter as he watches you lay against the desk, your cheek pressed against the wood as you only let out weak whines in response, “Knowing we were about to get caught? Is that what made you cum, cutie?”

In a pathetic attempt to dodge his question, you bury your head in your arms— the man behind you simply laughs, pressing on the small of your back and grinding into you slowly, biting his lip at the sight. 

“Want me to cum inside? Fill you up and have it leak down your legs, making people wonder just where you disappeared to for so long?” frantically, you nod; you’re pressing your ass back against him, trying to fuck back into him as Hueningkai only groans at the sight— moments later, you’re practically biting through your lip from the feeling of him filling you up so well, trying his best to fuck his cum back into you the moment it begins to drip back out. 

A moment passes where the two of you simply remain still, attempting to regain your breaths— then, you hear sounds of shuffling and footsteps, and you’re meekly raising your head from your arms to watch as Taehyun approaches the two of you with a teasing smile.

“You should go get cleaned up and change,” Taehyun says, tapping your ass with a smile, “It’s my turn now, isn’t that right baby?”

Hueningkai rolls his eyes at the other’s antics— then, he’s slowly pulling out, hissing softly at the feeling before he’s grabbing your face and bringing you up for a kiss— it’s slow and sensual, his plump lips addicting as he sneaks his tongue in for a taste of you— he’s reluctant to pull away, and only does so when you grip his shirt in your hands weakly and whine petulantly in his mouth— pulling away, he’s sending you a soft smile, taking in the sight of your shining and swollen lips before he’s telling you I’ll be right back— Taehyun rolls his eyes at his words. 

“Tell me,” Taehyun begins, bending you over once more and keeping his head next to yours, encouraging you to hold eye contact with him as he smiles softly— his index and middle finger are slowly massaging up and down your slit, and you let out a weak whimper at the feeling of him gathering the cum that’s leaking out of you before he’s pushing it back in slowly, “What would you fantasize about? I’d love to try it out on you.”

He won’t do anything until he hears your confession— a sign that you really did want them all along, forcing himself to tease you instead as he takes in the way you begin to break slowly, your hips attempting to chase pleasure, only to be stopped by Taehyun’s firm grip on your hip. 

“I could do so many things to you,” he mutters softly, placing a chaste kiss on your shoulder before he continues, “All you have to do is tell me.”

Fuck, where do you even begin? All the things you’ve ever thought about these two boys were reserved for the dark hours of the night when you couldn’t control your wandering mind, never to be revealed as you always told yourself you’d take this attraction to your grave— but now, as you feel Taehyun’s fingertips continuously dip into your entrance teasingly, able to feel the way some of Hueningkai’s cum has already run down your thighs, you really can’t be blamed for the way Taehyun’s sparkling doe eyes are able to extract the words from you without a second thought.

“Thought of riding you while I did your makeup,” you whimpered out pathetically, the confession enough to make your face feel like it was on fire— Taehyun, however, thinks the image might just make him cum on the spot, so he doesn’t have it in him to be apologetic as he quickly guides you back to his makeup chair and makes you hover over him.

“Well? What’re you waiting for?” He asks breathlessly, straddling his lap and staring down at him with wide eyes as he keeps his hands on your waist, having yet to find release as he feels his cock straining painfully against his sweats, “Now’s your chance, cutie.”

You stare at Taehyun— at his smudged makeup, his flushed cheeks, and his eyes that are blown open with need— and nod meekly, your hand reaching to take him out before you’re lining him up with your entrance, brows furrowing slightly as you properly take in his size.

That does little to hinder you; the way you sink on Taehyun is fucking painfully slow, and the said man is cursing in your ear as he feels the way you clench around him, your and Hueningkai’s release already coating his dick and making a mess of the chair as you stare at him with bleary eyes. 

“Don’t you need to fix my makeup?” Taehyun asks, his voice a bit strained from the effort to not pound into you recklessly— cluelessly, you nod, your expression making Taehyun let out a breathy laugh, “Do what you need to— I’ll do all the hard work, pretty thing.”

You’re unsure of what he may mean until he’s nodding back at the makeup case behind you— letting out a soft oh, you reach for your supplies, shaky hands taking what you need before you’re turning back to Taehyun. 

His hands are on the swell of your ass, smiling fondly at you before he begins to buck his hips up into you— softly at first, giving you the illusion that he’ll actually let you work, then becoming rougher as he watches the way your expression breaks, coherence leaving your eyes as you simply look at him with bleary, clueless eyes— your actions are oh so slow as you try to touch up on his makeup, trying your best to not make things worse than they already are— but the task seems to be impossible with the way Taehyun fucks you, biting his lip and guiding your hips up and down to get you to ride him as well, already noticing a second orgasm building up from the way you help him out eagerly. 

“Tyun,” you whimper out, makeup supplies in your fists as you place them firmly on his chest, “This isn’t working— I can’t… ah…!”

You’re interrupted mid-sentence as you’re finally coming undone on top of him— the makeup supplies in your hands dig into your skin from how hard you grip onto them, a weak, choked moan escaping you as Taehyun only continues to fuck you through it, not slowing down even after you’ve ridden out your high, going back to whining that you can’t do it, it’s too hard— too much.

“Yes you can,” he grins, taking in the way you only shake your head with satisfaction, “Okay then, can you hold out until I cum then? Can you be good for me, pretty girl?”

You don’t hesitate to nod at that; it has Taehyun laughing before it’s choked off into a moan, finally able to use you to his liking as he begins to fuck you rougher— shit… you hear him groan, and one look at him is enough to tell you that he’s staring at the sight in the mirror behind you— taking in how pretty you look as you bounce on his cock, hands desperately holding onto him as you tuck your head into his shoulder— The feeling of your lips sucking absentmindedly at his skin is enough to set him off, bottoming out inside you and groaning at the way his cum spurts inside you, barely able to stay in from how full you already are. 

Gradually, his pace slows down to nothing but a slow grind— you’re attempting to regain your breath once you finally sit up, still perched prettily on his cock as you begin to touch up his makeup with shaky hands. 

“Hmm? That’s unfair,” Hueningkai’s sudden voice has your head snapping up, looking to where he stands as he taps a finger at his collarbone, “Why didn’t I get one of those?”

Your eyes widen as you’re turning back to Taehyun at break-neck speed— sure enough, you’ve left a mark, and you can already feel your stomach sinking at the thought of having to cover that up. 

“Relax, our outfits are pretty covered,” Taehyun scoffs, reading your expression with a playful roll of his eyes, “But I wouldn’t really mind having others see it.”

“No fair, can I get one?” Hueningkai pouts, even more so when you deny him shyly, focusing on your task and pretending as though you’re currently not sitting firmly on Taehyun’s cock with both their cum leaking out of you.

“Baby,” Hueningkai calls out softly, making you turn your head as he captures you in another kiss— it’s even messier than last time, which you really didn’t think was possible as you’re left panting for breath once he pulls away, your eyes widening at the lopsided grin he sends you. 

“Fix my makeup next?”

Fuck, they’ll miss their damn show at this point. 

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #taehyun x reader #taehyun imagines #taehyun oneshot #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #taehyun smut #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai imagines #hueningkai oneshot #hueningkai smut

[dreamescapeswriting]

No Regrets ~ HJS [MATURE WARNING]

CONTINUATION OF THIS PIECE

WORD COUNT: 3.9K

GENRE: Mafia AU, fluffy, first meeting, meet cute, fluffy jisung, soft mafia jisung being soft for reader, always there to protect her, bank heist and shes injured in the process, SMUT MINORS DNI, protected sex, sex in front of the fireplace, oral (female recieving)

PAIRING: Jisung x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of blood, killing, stealing, heists, reader being held at gun point,

Lightening slashed through the darkened sky making you jump a little and scoot closer to Jisung, the rain pounding against the windows of a cafe. Somewhere that had become your refuge from the storm that was growing worse by the second. Jisung glanced over at you, ever since you'd walked into the cafe he'd barely been able to take his eyes off you but he'd been trying. Not once was he able to though, it was like there was some kind of curse drawing him to you.

Years had passed since he'd ever been with a woman and he'd practically sworn off everyone he met, not wanting to get distracted by them but there was just something about you, something so warm and fresh that drew him in.

"Are you sure you don't need anything else?" Jisung questioned, his gaze solely on you as you shivered a little, you felt frozen to your core but Jisung's men had already given you a shirt, a pair of pants and a blazer you didn't want to take anything else from them. That was, you didn't want to be in debt to the man beside you.

All of the stories you'd heard about the man from the underworld but they'd all failed to mention how kind his eyes were or just how sweet he was...toward you at least. It was a strange contrast between what people said he was like and what he was really like, something you hadn't really been expecting until now.

"No...T-Thanks." Your chattering teeth gave you away before Jisung snapped his fingers at his men, who swiftly sprung into action. Moments later, a steaming cup of hot chocolate was in front of you and a dry blanket was wrapped around your shoulders.

"I can start the fireplace if it gets too much," Jisung offered, his chest tightening as he watched you closely, eyeing you up as if he were waiting for you to shiver and give him the chance to jump in and be the hero of your story. Not that Jisung was the hero in anybody's story, he was always the villain. 

There was something about you that made him feel at ease, something that made him feel at peace as you sat beside him but there was also a nagging feeling inside of him, one that wanted him to protect you. It happened the second you'd barged into the cafe, shivering and dripping wet onto the floor. It was the reason he'd demanded his men into action before they could kick you out, there was no way he was going to send you out in the freezing weather.

"I hate the storms too," He finally mentioned, whispering so that none of his men around could hear the admission come from his lips. He'd never been one to tell people what scared him, not when it could possibly be used against him but you seemed in need of someone to talk to.

"You do?" Your voice cracked a little as you swallowed the lump in your throat, the tightness in your body loosening ever so slightly as Jisung put you at ease.

"Yeah, ever since I was a little boy they always scared me." He holds his cup in his hands, letting the warm ceramic warm up his cold hands. 

"I would never have expected you to be scared of anything." You admit shyly before he beams at you, he liked that you were feeling comfortable around him more than he cared to admit.

"There's a lot you might not know, but I'd be happy to fill you in." Your cheeks warmed at the kindness coming from him and you nodded.

The storm raged on outside but the cafe was suddenly becoming a warm sanctuary amidst the darkness. It was an unlikely friendship growing between you both, a mafia underworld leader and a frightened girl who'd stumbled into the cafe by accident.

"My favourite colour is pink but if anyone ever asks it's black," Jisung smirked at you, making you giggle a little as you sipped on your drink. 

"Mine's blue, but the colour of the sky on a really nice summer's day is blue." You admit to him, smiling while you forget the storm completely as you get to know Jisung just that little bit more. 

The night had flown by too quickly for either of you and you hated as you saw the sun coming up through the windows. 

"We stayed up all night?" You laughed nervously, trying to remember the last time you'd ever stayed up this late and it must have been years ago. The light burnt your eyes as you and Jisung stepped out onto the streets, you were still dressed in his guard's clothes and he couldn't help the jealous twinge he got thinking about it.

"Must have," He chuckles softly looking around for a car for you but there was none in sight except for his own.

"Vinny," He whispered in a low voice to one of his men nearby.

"Make sure she gets home safely." Vinny nodded understanding the unspoken order from his boss,

"Don't worry boss, I got this," Vinny told him as he got into one of the waiting cars and Jisung turned his attention to you. Searching in his pockets and handing you a small piece of paper with his number scrawled on it.

"In case you need anything. Don't hesitate to call." You gently took the piece of paper, staring down at it with a mix of surprise and gratitude flickering across your face. You never would have expected his number after a night of just talking,

"Thanks." You whispered before carefully tucking into your pocket and making your way to the car with Vinny inside.

"I'll be seeing you," Jisung called out, watching you with one last lingering gaze before you disappeared into the city and Jisung couldn't shake the weight of concern sitting on his chest.

He knew the dangers that lurked in the streets, especially to someone as unsuspecting as you. He was glad Vinny was going to drive you home but something still weighed down on him as he thought about you more and more being alone and he would do anything to ensure your safety. Maybe he could hire someone to watch over you all of the time, or would that be going too far?

"Boss, we have a meeting with Dante Moretti in an hour." A voice informed him snapping him from his daydream and he sighed nodding his head, there was no rest for the wicked. 

"Can you make sure Vinny stays close to Yn, I want updates on how she's doing." He grumbled as he got into his car, ensuring your safety felt as though he was protecting a piece of his own humanity in the chaos of the world and he was going to do as much as he could to keep you safe.

Someone had been following you and you knew who, he wasn't as sneaky as he thought he was since he was almost 7 feet high and built like he could knock down a brick house with one flick of his wrist. Sighing a little you turned on your heel making Vinny almost crash into you from how abruptly you'd stopped in place.

"Vinny, I'm fine." You told him plainly, staring up at the man who looked as though he'd barely slept a wink in days. Ever since your rendezvous with Jisung a week ago, Vinny had been outside of your apartment and everywhere you went. Part of you thought it was sweet that Jisung had asked him to watch over you but after no contact with Jisung, it was beginning to get annoying.

Maybe he did this to everyone he met and the reason Vinnny was watching you was because Jisung wasn't sure you could be trusted but you'd had enough. You wanted some space and Vinny following you everywhere was drawing attention to you that you didn't need nor want.

"Boss said to watch you." You scoffed a little, if Jisung was that bothered about you being looked after he should have come to check on you himself rather than sending a babysitting,

"Your boss can come and watch me himself, I don't need an armed guard." You gestured to the gun that was on his belt and he glanced at it, it was something all of Jisung's men were issued with.

"But-"

"Go and take a break, I'm going to the bank...okay? Nothing bad is going to happen to me in there. Go get food or something." You pointed to the cafe across the street and he bit down on his lip, disobeying a direct order from Jisung meant he'd probably lose his life.

"I have to go, I have a meeting and if I'm late I'll never get the loan I need." You mumbled, straightening out your outfit and walking in the direction of the large building while Vinny looked at you. He knew you were right and he needed a break and what was five minutes going to do if he went to grab a muffin?

The glass shattered around you as loud popping sounds began to ring out, you ducked a little as you flinched. The man you had been speaking to you dropped to the floor instantly and frowned,

"LADIES AND GENTLEMAN!" Someone screamed out, your eyes darted in the direction of the voice and your heart began to race. Armed robbers were storming into the bank, their faces covered by clown masks and you cursed yourself for sending Vinny away. 

"Everyone be calm and do as we say and no one has to die." The main man called out as he turned to a man reaching for his wife only to shoot him in the head. Panic gripped you as you sank down onto the floor, none of the masked men had been able to see you since you'd been toward the back of the bank. With trembling fingers you began to hit Jisung's number, you'd had him saved ever since your night together and he was the only person you could think of helping you right now. 

As you continued the rings Jisung answered and your voice barely came out above a whisper,

"Jisung, please...you have to do something." You held your hand over your mouth trying to calm yourself down, if any of them found you, you'd be dead.

"There are robbers...they're holding us hostage." You whispered frantically. Jisung's blood ran cold as he listened to the desperation in your voice. Without hesitating he sprang into action, issuing orders to his men and racing to the scene.

"I'll be right there baby, just stay hidden," He kept you on the phone as he raced to his car, he needed to make sure you were safe.

"Where's Vinny baby, is he with you?" Your breathing was frantic but you tried your best to focus on Jisung rather than the yelling and shouting that was going on.

"I sent him away, to eat...I-I thought I would be okay," You sniffled a little and Jisung wanted to reach through the phone and comfort you, wipe away the tears he knew that were streaming down your face.

"I'll kick his ass for listening to you," He chuckled trying to make you laugh but your breathing stilled as you heard someone coming toward you. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you held your breath trying to hide further under the table,

"Found you, sweetheart." Someone sneered, his voice dripping with malice as he dragged you out from your hiding spot his grip so tight you knew it was going to leave a bruise. 

"Yn?! YN?!" Jisung screamed down the phone, forcing his men to drive faster down the streets toward the bank you were in.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt the cold metal of the gun pressed against your temple, you were shoved through the bank toward the front once again.

"Lookey what we have! An example to make of." He smirked as you struggled against his grip, your heart pounding with every beat as you thought about a way to get out of this or a way to drag it out.

"What did we say? Stay calm and no one will get hurt, it seems someone can't listen to rules." The metal of the gun was dragged down your cheek until he placed it underneath your chin, the tears free-falling as you whimpered a little. 

Suddenly, amidst the chaos of the other men shuffling money into banks, the sound of sirens pierced through the air, signalling that police were outside. The grip the man had on you faltered for a second, his attention on the threat of the police. Mustering up all your strength and with the surge of adrenaline, you twisted free from his grasp, ducking out of his grasp and making a run for the safety of a desk. The man cursed as he scrambled after you, just as he got close a shadow emerged from nowhere and stared down at him.

"Jisung." You breathed out as he stared down at the man who had grabbed you, his moments were swift as he subdued the robber and put him to the floor aiming a gun at him this time.

"Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?" Jisung stared over at you, your breath catching in your throat as you watched him closely and you shook your head.

"I'm fine, just scared." You admitted as he nodded, turning his attention back to the other robbers who were all on their knees with their hands behind their heads. Everyone knew not to fuck with Jisung if they knew what was good for them and Jisung waited for the cops to come in. 

"How are you doing?" Jisung asked as he sat beside you in front of the fireplace, after the robbery Jisung had taken you back to his place deciding that he didn't want you to be alone tonight.

"Fine, just like I was fine the other twenty-two times you asked," You said, teasing him a little for how often he'd been asking you the same question since getting there.

"I just want to make sure," He sighed, wrapping the blanket around your shoulder more and smiling at you. Your heart began to beat faster as you were cuddled so close to him.

"You're the first person I wanted to call when it happened." You admit, after the events of the day you weren't going to hold back telling him how you felt about him since there was no point, you never knew what could happen.

"Why?" He blushed a little as you watched him closely,

"I like you...a lot, and I wanted to hear from you one last time in case...In case I died-"

"I would never let anything happen to you," He whispered, clutching your hand in his and holding it on his lap.

"No?" You giggled a little as he ran his hand over your cheek and gently rubbed his thumb over your skin,

"No. I should kick Vinny's ass for leaving you." He grumbled, he'd wanted to do it after getting you from the bank but you'd begged him to take you home, not wanting to stay there any longer than you had to.

"I told him to." You reminded him but Jisung scoffed at the thought, the only person Vinny should have been listening to was Jisung and Jisung alone.

"He should only take orders from me." He grumbled a little and you inched closer to him, 

"You're cute when you're mad." Your voice came out low and seductive as you gently kissed his jawline.

"Y-Yeah?" He stuttered a little as he felt you closer to him, his heart racing as you began to kiss his jaw again.

"Yeah, and hot when you're being the hero for me." You added before kissing his neck a little, his whole body flaming as his cheeks burnt bright red.

"Yn...Y-You went through something traumatic today, we should probably wait,"

"Why?" You stopped still and looked up at him, his eyes staring down at you, he wanted to, more than anything, but he didn't want to rush you into something.

"I don't want you to do something you'll regret." You smiled warmly at him,

"I promise I won't," You whispered before kissing him softly, his arms wrapping around your waist as the blanket you were wearing dropped from your shoulders. 

Jisung carefully laid you down on the floor, kissing down your neck as he pulled the shirt you were wearing off your body.

"I've wanted you for so long," He groans, kissing down your bare chest and sucking on your nipples causing your back to arch off the floor.

"So don't waste any more time," You pleaded with him as he smirked, kissing down your chest until he reached your panty line which he quickly tore off you and threw somewhere in the room.

"I don't let anyone order me around but for you, I'll make an exception." He groans before putting your legs on his shoulders before pushing his face into your cunt. His tongue slowly licked through your folds as you let out a strangled moan of his name.

"J-Jisung," You cry out, your hands pushed into his hair and you ground your hips against his face needing more than what he was giving to you. Jisung didn't miss the hint though as he picked up the pace, eating you out like a man starved as he moaned against your clit sending vibrations up and down your spine.

"F-Fuck! R-Right there," You cry out as he continued to suck on your clit, his fingers pushing into you and sending you closer to the edge. Jisung smirked up at you, your eyes were screwed shut and your head rolled back as you gave into him.

"G-Gonna..Fuck I'm so close," You cried out louder, Jisung curled his fingers to your g-spot, moving his fingers at a brutal pace until you screamed his name out as your first orgasm hits you. 

"So loud for me, I love it." He groans as you pull him up and kiss him deeply, not caring if you could taste yourself on his lips but just desperate for him.

"Want you," You grumbled as you quickly stripped him of the suit pants he was wearing and rubbed his cock through his boxers earning a grunt from him.

"I've got an IUD," You whisper to him when you see him searching around for something and he relaxes a little, kissing you deeply as you lay back down on the floor, your legs spread on either side of his hips.

"You sure?"

"Jisung, please," You whined out, spreading your legs further apart as Jisung lined himself up, easing into you at a slow and torturous pace.

"M-More," You begged as you rocked your hips up a little until he was pushed to the hilt, a strangled moan leaving both your throats. Jisung smirked at you as he slowly pulled out of you, only to slam back into you as you let out a scream of his name. He began thrusting into you, harder and faster than before as your hands dragged down his back. 

"You're so tight, angel, you close?" He groans out as you clench around him again, moaning out his name as he continues his brutal pace. You'd had sex plenty of times but nothing compared to this, Jisung had you on the edge from just a few thrusts.

"You make me insane for you," He growls out as he continues to fuck into you,

"G-Good, you do the same for me," You whine out, rolling your hips in time to meet his thrust as you feel the familiar tension building inside of you.

"S-Shit, Jisung." You moan out as he grips your hips, his thrusts getting more determined,

"C-Cum for me angel," He groans, as if on his command you came around him, screaming his name out as you rocked your hips riding out your orgasm. Jisung wasn't far behind as he panted into your neck, his hips slowly to a still making you giggle a little.

"Let's go and get cleaned up," He whimpered a little, his hips shaking as you nodded and wriggled beneath him.

The morning sun filtered through the blinds in Jisung's room and he cursed himself for not getting blackout ones like he wanted to. The memories of last night began to filter through his mind leaving him smirking as reached out beside him. He frowned, a pang of unease gripping his chest as he stared at the empty space beside him. Had you regretted the night before?

With a heavy sigh, Jisung rose from the bed and rubbed the back of his neck. Your clothes were still in his room along with your bag and phone which meant you were still around somewhere he just had to find you. He padded down the stairs, an overwhelming sense of gratitude filling him when he saw you standing in the kitchen with your hands on your hips yelling at someone.

"I wanted to cook for him, what's the big deal!?" You cried out at the old lady who had swatted your hands away with a spatula when she found you cooking.

"He only lets me cook for him, it's the safest way." You rolled your eyes, about to tell her who you were when someone wrapped their arms around you.

"Come back to bed, let Sophia make our food so I can fuck your brains out," He whispered in your ear, biting down on your ear as you let out a small moan following him without question.

"So no regrets?" He asked, threading his fingers between yours as he led you back to the stairs.

"No regrets," You smirked kissing him on the cheek and rushing off up the stairs to his room again.

"I hate you," Felix's date said as he stood beside her, her arms folded across her chest as she stared at him looking completely pissed off that she had to be there.

"I hate you more, my little firecracker," He smirked down at her and you cuddled closer to Jisung as you watched the exchange.

"It's strange that's how they express their love," You giggled a little as Jisung took your hand in his, gently kissing the top of it before pulling you into his chest.

"Hmm, think we should uninvite them from the wedding?" Jisung smirked as you slapped his chest softly, hushing him. A charity event wasn't the place to announce your upcoming wedding, you wanted to do it properly and at a dinner with all of them together.

"We'll see you later," Seungmin's date whispered before hugging you and running off toward the stairs with Seungmin.

"They're going to fuck," Jisung laughed softly making you roll your eyes at him.

"They could just be wanting a private moment," You elbowed him in the chest as he chuckled to himself he knew what the couple were up to, since he and you had snuck off at parties to do the same thing plenty of times in the past.

"To fuck." He added as you groaned at him, pulling him to go and dance with you.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp

#skz #skz x reader #skz imagine #skz imagines #skz smut #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #han jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung imagine #han jisung imagines #han jisung smut #jisung #jisung x reader #jisung imagine #jisung imagines #jisung smut

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

Masterlist

Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn)

Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Pre Series Content and Extras:

Woes of a Modern Day Love (a modern!au)

Scattered Memories of the Starks

Shadows of their Hatred

The Lost Chapters of Jon Snow

NSFW Alphabet (contains spoilers for Part 3 and 4)

Interlude of Jealous Desires

A New Life's Darkened Lust (continuation of Ashes of Various Grey)

Part 1:

Wolves of the Lone Stag

Mouth of the Lion's Den

An Intrigue Drenched in Blood

Standing Behind a Betrayal

A War of Tragic Beginning

Part 2:

King and Queen in the North

Shadow of a Fiery Stag

Reunion of New Enemies

Pleasure of Conflicted Desire

The Sanctity of Children

What Lies Beyond The Veil

Part 3:

The Cost of Our Sins

Dragged Through the Violence

Only the Cold

Fire for the King's Blood

Part 4:

Ashes of Various Grey

Plans of Pain and Horror

Afraid of a Ravens Flight

Trust in the Gentle Rasps

Visions in Eyes and Flames

A Bastard or The White Wolf

Part 5:

Home of Bloodsoaked Stone

Blazing Fire of Storming Ice

Ghostly Dreams of Old

Sailing Through the Glow

The Last Dragon

The Winter Rose

Part 6:

The Clash of Three Kings

Shrouded Truth in Sickness

Winged Shadow in the Sky

Light in the Darkest Storms

Peeking the Realms Woes

Blood, Roses and All Lies

Broken Love of the Dead

The Souls Tethered in Death

Wolves of the Past and Back

The Crows and The Sight

Part 7:

A Brewing of New Mystery

Great Wolves of White Mists

Darkness Heavy in a World

Past Becomes the Present

The Thing in the Night

Waving Tides of Turmoil

Greenish White Boodraven

Dark Blood of Blinding Light

And Wait for the Snows

Part 8:

Into the Haunted Forest

Fist of the First Men

Through the Frost Fangs

#jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones imagine

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: Blood, abduction, violence, intense gore, death, swords & firearms, angst, hurt/comfort, nakedness, etc.

A/N: Guys, whatever you do, don't imagine Price in a white tunic holding Mermaid you in one arm and weilding a sword in the other. I'm frothing at the mouth.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You sit on your black rocks once more, the darkening sky warning of an oncoming storm that you can feel seeping into your bones. In your loose grip, you fiddle with John’s necklace. 

He’d given it to you only recently as a gift, seeing as you enjoyed the shininess of it so much, and you’d taken great pleasure in keeping it around your neck. Out of all of your treasures and trinkets, somehow these measly metal discs had become your favorite. The necklace is smooth under your caress, and you look down at it adoringly, eyes soft and lips curved with delicate affection. 

The cove, as always, was quiet above the call of seagulls and the lapping of waves; the whispering ripples from your tail as it sways under the water. You had gotten content with this—the silence. Because you knew it would be filled by the low gravel of an accented voice soon enough; would be swept away by the chuckles you could wring from beard-hidden lips. 

John was something to look forward to, and you loved the way he looked at you. 

Water hits the top of your head. 

Blinking out of your honeyed thoughts you look up to the crying sky as small slaps of droplets slide across your cheeks. Lashes flinch at every motion, and you glance back to the empty cove before lowering the necklace to your scaled lap. 

Confusion slithers in like an eel to your heart as your eyes slide over the growing waves. The yawning mouth of the entrance sits abandoned of any small fishing ship. 

For three, beautiful, sand-covered, months, John had never missed a day to come and see you. Rain or Sun.

A prick of a sharp fish's spine enters your brain. The rain comes down now in sheets. Lightning and thunder fight, and if you look close enough, the remnants of ancient lightning birds battle overhead with a flurry of black wings and their insatiable need for blood. Yet, still, your eyes stay frozen on the cove entrance as the water rises and rises. 

With a thinning of your lips and the violent pushing from the torrent as it swallows your rocks, you clench your hands over John’s necklace and push off your perch with a shove of your palms. 

Water encompasses you, scales dull, and fins limp as the general calmness from the encompassing water holds you in a constant sway. Your brows furrow.

Why wasn’t he here? You ask yourself, sinking among the seaweed and the schools of quick fish. Concern mingles with hurt. Do…do you think he’s alright? 

Human ways were still confusing to you, even if John had been helping you understand them and giving little clam-shells of information. But they seemed…like violent folk. Angry and selfish, from what John had said about their wars and squabbles. The thought of your fisherman potentially being in danger on land was terrifying to you. 

There wouldn’t be anything you could do if that happened.

Your fingers tighten around the strap of his necklace as you stare at the surface, back lightly hitting the bottom of the cove with a puff of sand. Crabs scatter as your tail twitches, your lungs sighing in their own special way. 

John can take care of himself, you reason. He’s just a little late is all. 

John’s never late. Your face creases, but you stuff the thought down, twisting on your side and bridging the piece of jewelry to your lip—kissing it once as sand digs into your skin. Holding the fisherman's property to your pounding heart, you close your eyes and wait as any lonely and loyal Merwoman would; tail held in close and the reverberations of a rabid downpour above you.

—

You wake up to the darkness of night. Blinking, you sigh to yourself and move a slow hand to rub at your eyes. After a moment of fatigued confusion as to why you weren’t in your cave, you realized why you had been out here in the first place.

John. 

Arms pushing you up, your mind fights to wake itself, laced with algae and fatigue. How long have you been asleep? Has the storm stopped? Surely you hadn’t slept the entire day away. You pull the fisherman's necklace over your head as you stare at the sand below you. No fish were slipping past besides one that brushes your tail, which you found odd, but didn’t think much of it. 

Shaking your head, you feel sluggish and put the necklace back on with a huff. You worry what John will think of you perhaps missing his late visit and smile slightly in humor. 

The fish brushes your tail again. 

Scales shimmering, you turn with an annoyed pull to your lips, fins scraping something hard and rough even as it’s saturated by the water of your cove. When you spot it, not only the rope but the shadow of the large hunting ship above you, your body drains of any life that had once lived in your lungs. It wasn’t nighttime. 

Eyes widening at the loop that was parading around your tail, you don’t have time to move before it tightens with a force that leaves your mouth opening in a bubbled scream; ruthlessly jerking your body along the seafloor. 

Desperately, your hands rip along the rocks and weeds of the bottom of the cove, getting torn and shredded in their soft nature as easily as paper. Your body smacks into every little object with a rattling to your bones that makes you sob. Red saturates the water as you’re manhandled in long and steady intervals back and up. 

No amount of rampaging your tail does can break the rope, and with a last-ditch effort as the sandy floor gets farther and farther away, you twist around and tear at the woven cord with sharp nails. Adrenaline pumps, pupils tiny and panicked. 

No! No, not like this! You can imagine the pain of it now—the hooks and the ripping of scales from your supple flesh. Even now the tiny ones under the dig of the vice are peeling away in long strings of red to disappear behind you as you’re thrust upward. They’re delicate, don’t these monsters understand? They’re beautiful and treasured and they’re destroying them!

You scream in pain at the pulling of your spine; a large creaking in your muscles. 

But as you gain a small sense of feral hope when the rope begins to fray from your grip, the iron net squashes any belief of surviving. 

It slams into you as John would cast his own for his prey—but this one is larger and full of cruel, curved, spikes. Is this what your parents endured? What the harpies had meant? The iron sinks far quicker than rope, and it traps you in a dome of hell before you can mutilate yourself out of the maw.

Oh, Gods, it was going to peel your skin away.

True fear pounded in your breast, and with a cry of John’s name from under the water, you watched with horror as the net descended onto you and your bloody wounds.

They drag you above waves and the first thing you do is thrash and wail so loud the seagulls shriek in surprise. There’s crimson staining the waters sloshing at you with combative ease, the violent storm from before now a light slapping at add to your fear. In the wake of open air, the curved spikes dig into your flesh as easily as a unicorn’s horn can penetrate a wyvern’s armor. Skin everywhere is assaulted and peeled to a tautness of bodily torture. 

Oh, and your precious tail. 

It hurt so badly, like nothing you had ever experienced before. 

“John!” You scream as your body strikes the side of the large ship, voice cutting out and leaving a bawling yell behind. Your form was being pulled by steady hoists and barked orders. 

All around you can hear laughing—joking. Loud exclamations of approval. 

You’re sure they’ve dislocated your tail right at the joint, how could they not have? The ream of their strong arms and ruthless greed. Oh, your tail, your precious, beautiful tail.

Long streams of salty tears fly down your dripping face; arms pushing the spikes away from your neck and face with futile action. The net and rope were your earthly graves. 

They slam you to the deck like a fish. 

Jerking and slapping around, your arms hit the wood with a bird-paced heart. The iron rattles and keeps you down like a weight. 

Brokenly gasping through loud cries, the sudden jeering faces from all around leave your fear all-consuming. 

They were ugly—broken teeth and sun-destroyed skin. Eyes that bugged and scars that could be from either a sword or a Strix’s claws. More than likely it was from meager squabbles with crewmates. But you balk back nonetheless, terrified and bleeding profusely. 

They were going to rip you to pieces. 

Inside your chest, your lungs are rising and falling quickly, and the hands that glide along your form make you want to burn your skin off. They grip at you, yanking you around as your hair gets caught in the gaps between the iron. With nail and tooth your bite and claw, but how many were there? Ten? Twenty? 

There’s uproar and more jokes as you fight back; body lifted and spikes torn out of skin as you arch your back and howl in agony. Their hands are not John’s. They don’t caress your smooth skin with reverence or holiness—this is cruelty. This is a sadistic pleasure. 

“Isn’t it our lucky day, Lads?!” A high and grating voice bellows out, and finally free of the net, all you can do is cry and flip your tail uselessly along the polished wood as they throw you down. Your vision blacks and slowly comes back—hair matted and skin slick with more than water.

It hurts to breathe too much. Whimpering, your cheek presses itself into the deck as footsteps take someone closer.

“Holy God, would ya look at that down there, eh? A true maiden of the sea,” A thunderous belt of achievement from everyone leaves you flinching, eyes tight shut to try and focus on anything but the excruciating way your skin throbs and gushes blood. “Though we’d have gotten all of them by now!” 

Haggard laughs and rotted smiles. 

A hand snaps to wrench your face upward, and you yowl and grasp at your head as your delicate strands go tight.

“Now who’s the little beauty we have here?” Whoever this man was, he had no standing on John. On your Fisherman. 

Loose skin and an age-rotted tunic, a belt at his waist holding a scabbard with a gold sword and twin pistols. He had only one eye—brown as a pile of mud—with a black eyepatch over the other. 

Your fluttering lashes took in a cracked-lipped grin of approval; whether at your battered appearance or the nature of your species, you knew not. But you didn’t like the way he was glancing at your tail as if it was made of gold one bit.

“Lords above, did ya have to be so brash, Lads?” Spittle slaps your face and you fight again with the hands in your locks to get away. The man’s hold jerks your face back and forth until you stop with bile building in your throat. “Wrecked her silky skin, you did!”

Being thrown back, your skull slams the deck before you hurl your guts in a sputtering of air and crimson. Many laugh and kick at your already broken scales. You grit your teeth and refuse to cry out.

“Get ‘er tied up and in the Hold for storage. If the scales are good enough, we’ll peel ‘em tomorrow.”

“Peel?!” Your face whips into a twisted glare, and pain leads to fast anger; wrath, even. The men grow gradually silent at your outburst and the leader comes to a slow stop—his back to you. “How dare you?” You gasp out, hands pushing your body slightly backward until the agony makes you stop with a lip-bitten whine. “How dare you do this to me? What have I done to you and your men? You’re nothing but senseless cowards who shy at something that lives its life differently! Am I only a pile of coin for you?!”

Your blood runs over the deck and seeps into the grain. Staining it with your memory and presence like a ghost that’s not yet dead. Loose scales shimmer and drip red. They were damaged and dull—your flesh was mangled. 

The leader turns back and smirks with blackened teeth. “More than a pile, Little Dearie. Far more. And if those hooks had been kinder, the King would have loved a beauty like you in his collection.” A look is slid down your body with a knowing chuckle.

He stalks off and you peel back your lips to say more, but a stained rag is shoved into your mouth instead, shutting up your rageful screeches and any hope of a peep of potent song despite not knowing these devils’ names.

By the time they chuck you in the Hold, body bouncing along the wood, and shut the hatch with a reverberation of wood, you had managed to rip someone’s ear clean off and break another’s arm; but there was only so much you could do. They had bound your hands behind you with a blow to your spine.

Curled up and longing for the sea, for John, you hold the only thing you have left. 

Silver discs on a chain, the metal smooth and the only thing now shining. You feel it hit your breastbone and sob as the headache of blood loss begins to set in. Laughter echoes from above your dark prison.

—

John saw the blood in the water before he saw the scales being pushed back and forth on the beach. Caught in that gentle push and pull now that the storm had ceased beyond a light drizzle—bright and reflecting the misty sun; far more vibrant than a fish or a sea serpent. But the blood. 

Christ, there was blood in the water. 

Blue eyes stare blankly at the sea-foam at the shoreline, red and bubbling, John’s pupils small and the lashes held back even as a salty breeze hits them with a burn. At his sides, his hands slowly close into fists. 

Jumping off the side of his ship, the man lands in thigh-deep water, gritting his teeth before he shoves his way to the sand and black rocks of land. He doesn’t know what drives his actions, or why he’s doing this, but with quick hands, he snatches up what scales he can find and keeps them in his palm; mind on fire. 

Anyone could see the fury in John’s gaze—a growing hatred for what was just beyond sight. When he has all he’s able to carry, he wades back through the water and gets himself back atop his boat easily with one hand. 

Walking quickly and soaked, he pushes aside a small cloth atop a barrel; seeing a gold box hidden under it. He opens it deftly, and while he puts the damaged and torn scales inside, John glances at the expensive and elegant twin cuff bracelets that sit in blue velvet. 

When he had been away buying them for you, he should have already been here. Wasted time.

I left her here alone. Knowing what could happen if I did. A growl bounces under his beard, face going red with anger. The two of you had quickly become enraptured with each other—drunk off flesh and touch like non-sentient animals. 

And something had taken place while he was away. You were gone, the fisherman knew. The water wasn’t as clear, the fish were terrified, and the blood alone proved this—the scales. This wasn’t an accident.

And it had something to do with that ship he’d seen on the horizon with his narrowed eyes not minutes prior. The Captain was slowly re-taking over the man.

“Fuck!” John curses, teeth bared as he spins and readies his sails. With violent pulls at the ropes, letting the mainsail shift down in a flurry of white sheets, he turns the vessel around in no time at all. It was as if Poseidon himself was pushing the ship forward to that small dot on the ocean line, far, far away. 

Deadly purpose bled into his heart, and the early afternoon sun forced him onward with hellfire following at his heels. He re-wraps his gift in the meantime, only taking a single scale from inside and putting it in a small pouch on his belt before walking to another barrel and pausing. This one was older, more sun-bleached. 

John deserted the service years ago, but not long enough to forget how the world of men can be. With a grunt on his thinned lips, the brunette rips the top off and grasps inside. 

With an experienced hand out came a sheathed Cutlass, the leather of the handle worn and indented to his very grip. It found a place on his belt, and John wasted no time in making the Flintlock pistol follow. 

A fisherman he may be, but in his blood John would always be a killer. He knew how to fight dirty and fight well—carve skin and not flinch at the sparks of gunpowder. There was no hesitation as to what he would do to get you back. 

In his chest, there was a weight of rage and concern as he glared at the far-off Hunter’s ship.

“What the hell have you done to her?” He growls, beard back and eyes narrowed. His hands clenched and unclenched with loathing. 

John’s thoughts go to the horror stories he’d heard about Merfolk and them getting caught in the open ocean, when he’d found you he had been surprised. He felt his heart beat faster when you were around, his blood would spike with love and affection. 

It was strange, unheard of, but he can’t stop it now that it’s happened. 

No one touched you with their cruel hands and lived. 

John didn’t like it, but he hung far enough away from the Hunter’s ship so that the cover of night hid him. Dark stars hung at his head, tunic blowing in the chilled breeze when the waves took him close enough—all was silent. Asleep. 

Lantern light slid along the waves, and with deft fingers, John anchored his ship with measured efficiency a small distance away. Looking over the side, the fisherman grunts under his breath and sets his shoulders. Without a single glance in hesitation, he slips silently off the deck into the water. 

Immediately, John kicks his legs and resurfaces with a puff from his nostrils, whipping his head to the side to dispel water. Making no sound, the man swims the distance between vessels, hearing the creak of the still and bulky form of the Hunter’s ship ten times his own sitting above him. 

“Fuckin’ bastards,” he grumbles to himself and thinks of your condition intensely. His heart hammers even in the clutches of the frigid waters. But beyond the insult, no other words needed to be spoken—the prior Captain was a man of action.

Violent Action.

John wades to the side of the wooden structure, the waves threatening to smash him tight into the hull and skin him against the barnacles, but he braces himself and grabs ahold of the knife at his belt, next to his cutlass. In his stupor to get to you quickly, he’d forgotten that his Flintlock would be completely useless now that it had been submerged in water. 

Grunting and trying to remain as quiet as possible, the man sets his blade into the side of the ship into the thin slits available. In his free hand, he takes up his cutlass and does the same. In a feat of impressive upper-body strength that leaves his muscles bunching and tensing—veins visible from the side of his neck—John huffs breaths as he climbs the ship one panel at a time. 

He groans and sends the blades back in at opposite intervals, the firm thunk-plunk, thunk-plunk, bouncing off the dark air as the moon shines bright. But no one awakens.

The Fisherman pulls himself up the side of the ship and swiftly ducts behind a pile of large crates on deck to gather himself, wiping his forehead with his arm.

“C’mon Sweetheart,” he mutters, “hold on just a little longer.” Duel wielding both weapons, narrowed eyes look across the open area—the stain of blood all along the wood. Glimmering in the low light catches John’s fiery gaze. 

Scales. Your scales. Littering the deck and scattered all over. 

If possible, the man becomes even more enraged, knuckles going white over his blades. The man stationed on deck was asleep across the way; leaning back and snoring. John locks eyes on him and hides back a vicious smirk. Quickly sneaking over and staying near the edge of the lantern’s lights, the ragged-looking man awakens to a blade at the base of his throat and a voice in his ear.

“The woman,” John speaks slowly and deeply, accent rolling out. The watchman tenses in his grip, but John grits his teeth and grits out, “Where the fuck is she?” 

“W-woman?” Usually, the brunette could paint himself a patient man, like a flag fluttering in a breeze waiting for the next bout of heavy winds without care or concern. But this was different. 

By God, if these pathetic fortune-seekers had hurt you even in the slightest bit…

John presses the blade harder to the man’s throat, thighs shifting in agitation, glaring at the far-off water beyond this stranger’s shoulder.

“The woman.” Blood falls down the blade edge, crimson. A tiny whimper. “The one that you stole away like an fucking animal.” 

“The fish?” The tone was incredulous but with a snarl the voice continues, whispering pitifully out in fear over the night’s silence. “She���s in the Hold! I swear it, Sir, on God’s green earth I do—”

John slits the man’s throat and takes his leave before the body drops, blood spraying into the air with a garbled cry.

—

You don’t sleep so much as you fall unconscious from the lack of blood. Inside your head, your brain is fuzzy and light—everything swirling like a jewel’s many faces reflected onto a wall. The rocking of the Hunter’s ship, while something you should be used and accustomed to, made you sick at times until only the watery bile that fell from your lips hit the wood. 

At some point, you’d given into the call of nothingness at the lack of seawater and the violent shivering of your shoulders. Your tail had gone completely numb. 

Everyone knew that Merfolk needed the sea to survive—you couldn’t live without feeling its loose arms around you for long periods, pulling you in and filling your airways. 

This was torture. 

But whoever was ripping up cloth at your limp side was muttering you back into the darkness of the Hold. 

“I’m right ‘ere, c’mon, Love. Open your bloody eyes.” Hands pressed to your face, tilting it and hissing before a thumb slid along the swollen skin of a cut. “I’ll rip them to pieces…mark my word. They’ll not live through this.” 

It sounded like…

Gripping at your binds and gag, both items slipped away right before the larger cuts on your body were suddenly packed with strips of rough material. Occasional whispers of words and curses wafted out. 

“...J-John?” Your voice is rough, shattered, but at the same time you manage to force open an eye. 

Tight blue eyes meet yours immediately, and his voice softens to a painful degree as he addresses you. “That’s it, atta girl. Just keep focusing on my voice, then, yeah? Come back to me, Sweetheart.” 

Tears well your ducts, lips quivering. 

John was curled over you and had ripped up the bottom of his tunic to make strips of bandages to try and stop the bleeding. He came for you, gruff voice and large frame, all.

“How are you—” Your voice breaks into body-shaking coughs, but that doesn't deter the man. He carefully puts a hand forward and tilts you into his arms; head resting on his chest. Your ears twitch to the sound of his heartbeat, loud and fast. You cling to it like a lifeline as those calluses graze your skin once more.

How was he here? 

“What have they fucking done?” John’s voice is dark and volatile, his hand stroking your matted hair. “What did they do?” 

He’s not so much asking you as he’s asking himself. You breathe in a wheeze, not noticing the crimson staining John’s clothes—none of it his or yours in the slightest. The other men on the ship weren’t the Fisherman’s priority, only you; always you. But whoever had been in his path had met the unfortunate end of being on the opposite side of his blade. 

When he’d found you like this….it was like his entire chest had fallen still. His eyes wide with horror and fear. 

John had never felt something that visceral before, except when you hadn’t been in your cove. 

“Oh, my Beauty.” Chapped lips press to your forehead, breathing you in as arms curl around you. “Let me bring you home.” 

You shake and cry silently into his neck, weak hands coming to grasp at his neck. 

“They’re going to take my tail.” 

“No,” John’s answer is immediate and firm, pulling you closer until you might slip into his skin. “No, they’re not doing a damn thing to you. I promise, Love, not a single person will ever touch you again, you hear?” 

You burrow into his neck, this fisherman’s flesh soft under your force. Hands keep you to him, and with another kiss on your cheek, they tighten and gently move you into the clutch of his arm. 

John looks down at you with great distress, eyes flickering over every sign of abuse and hurt. The men whose throats he’d slit in their sleep deserved to be awake and see the blade descending for their neck, he thought. 

“I’m going to lift you, Sweetheart, eh?” He grunts to push aside the hatred in his tone, not wanting to scare you. He gazes around the Hold and at the low ceiling—the insistent rocking from the waves just outside. 

You suck down greedy breaths and nod slightly, shaking in his arms. John’s eyes crease in sorrow but has no option but to continue; the both of you can’t be here when the remaining men wake or discover the bodies. 

Your Fisherman frowns but does what he’s able to both quickly and effectively lift you, your tail hanging limp and dripping blood from the fins. When you tense and whine, John shushes you quietly.

“Hush, now, it’s alright. It’ll all be over soon, I’ve got you. I’m taking you back home if it’s the last thing I damn-well do.” Your teeth grit with held-back pain, every movement was agony and to think made it worse. 

Home? Home wasn’t safe anymore. Like taking a knife to the heart, the thought makes the torment all the worse. 

John holds you in one arm, head under his ear and rubbing against his beard as his muscles strain to keep you right to him with his torn tunic and blood-freckled skin. In his free hand, he wields his Cutlass and exits the Hold slowly, eyes surveying the scene. 

The scores of bodies were only a fraction of the men of this ship—only one side of the crew’s quarters that ascended up to the deck. John knew the anatomy of a ship well, certainly one like this. 

His only question was why such an unsavory bunch was living on a King issued hunting vessel in perfect condition. Was the bastard hiring pirates for his extermination game?

“If I ever get my hands on him…” John shuts himself up as someone groans in their sleep from the far wall. 

He glares in the general direction and puts his body between yours and the straight direction that he walks—sword parallel to the ground and knife at his belt as a backup. Ready and wound for a fight. 

“You..you came for me?” You ask softly as John carries on, your blood leaving a crimson trail behind the two of you; your mind is loose to all except the way your Fisherman’s thumbs run circles in your rent scales, fingers gripping under your tail joint which aches and hurts. His bicep is curled at the small of your back. 

John carries you like you weigh nothing.

“‘Course,” the brunette's eyes slide to yours, true honesty and firmness behind his words. You flutter your lashes at the fatigue in your body and his feet speed up, speaking into your scalp and nuzzling his beard into you. “No one messes with my girl.” 

“I’m not a…girl, John,” you remind, softly.

The smirk on your head gives you strength, fear steadily draining like contaminated liquid.

“No,” he whispers, “no, not quite. You’re something far more lovely, aren’t you?”

Your heart swells, tears dripping down your cheeks once more before lips slide them away with brushes of a kiss. He carries you up the stairs quickly, sword at the ready. 

Lantern light makes you squint, hands tightening around John’s neck. 

He hums to you, a small melody that you can latch onto to help focus—it keeps your mind working as everything else falls away. John’s warm flesh and his lungs, the sound of his pulse. 

He came for you. No man would do that besides him—no specimen of any species. No one except John. 

Your Fisherman. 

You’re halfway to freedom, feeling the sea air on your flesh and longing for the depths of untouchable waves. You peek from John’s neck and blink delicately, what little scales still intact shimmering, and fins aching for water. 

“John,” he begins to pick up his pace, but still glances in attentive question. “I need to be in the water. I can’t go long without it.” You already felt a bit stronger by just being by the open sea. The man nods and you smile deeply, face twisted. You kiss his cheek deeply. “You have my thanks, Fisherman.” 

His tight expression gradually loosens with care and love. “Doubted me, then?”

“Perhaps only a little,” he kisses your lips, cheeky smiles peeling his beard. 

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, eh?” The man’s face is lit by lanterns, stars like a crown above his head that illuminate the small scars and the sheen of sweat like a portrait of a good man. 

Perhaps humans were truly more magical than you had been taught to believe, for no mortal man would do this for anybody. 

In the midst of him carrying you over to the edge of the ship, he’s only three feet from the drop when the familiar sound of a Flintlock hammer being clicked back hits his ears. You feel John lock up, and your eyebrows crease in confusion; not common to the model of metal and wood. 

Looking over his shoulder, you strangle down a raspy gasp.

“John—”

“I know, Love.” He whispers, turning slowly with his sword at his hip. The stranger with the eyepatch has his weapon leveled with the brunette’s chest. “Easy, let me handle it. Keep focusing on me.”

“A thief in the night!” The leader calls, and alarm from below deck start to rise in question at the noise. John grits his teeth and his stance widens. “Thought to make off with my prize, did ya? I’ve not seen you before on this ship.”

“Hell,” John grits out, loudly now that he’s caught. You burrow deeper into him and he shields you, voice hot with rage. “Save me the fuckin’ monologue. She isn’t yours—to own or bloody take.” 

As he speaks he points his cutlass in the leader’s general direction, holding it aloft with a strong and pale arm. The leader smirks, and soon the pound of rushing feet enter the deck—men holding weapons and clubs. You make a noise of tension and John tries to shift you farther into his grip even more. 

Your tail hangs and brushes the deck, gaining some feeling back to it gradually. 

The leader laughs. “What that creature is, Mate, is enough gold for a whole moon’s time in rum and pleasure.” His single eye falls on you as the crew gets closer, crowding in and yelling. 

John shuffles back and snarls like a boar, pointing his sword’s tip from one chest to another. 

“Keep your bastard eye off of ‘er, you prick. Find your score elsewhere. She’s coming with me.” So sure he sounds that you yourself believe it. Your chest swims with pride.  

The crew closes in, but jumping at this stage was dangerous. The ones with firearms could aim in the water before you both could get away and John didn’t know if you could swim still. Your fins were torn and tail flinching with damaged nerves.

Eyepatch barks a vile laugh, “...I think he loves the beast!” John’s body winds even farther and your eyes slip to the side of his red face. He grunts stiffly, hair damp. Everyone follows in their amusement, mocking the two of you. “I knew that necklace around her neck meant something.” Your body stills and you glance down at John’s gifted silver. Blue eyes flash to the same, but as if suddenly realizing the nakedness of your top surrounded by such brutes, your Fisherman pushes on the back of your spine to shove your chest into his own with a panicked look. You grunt in surprise, but let him. “No greedy Mermaid would bother with a trinket like that! A piece of rubbish metal. It means something to her—and I’ll bet that something is you, Thief.” 

Me, greedy? Your eyes narrowed into slits. If you knew his name, you’d sing his death song in an instant. Your Fisherman’s face goes stiff, knowing the predicament the two of you were in. There was no way he was giving you up. 

But himself…

Tiny lids narrow on the arrogant leader.

“Do you trust me?” John whispers to you, suddenly, as all sides were surrounded and the water just as dangerous as the deck. 

Face creasing, you say, confused and worried, “Of course.” 

“...Then forgive me.” 

He throws you from the side of the deck, and whirs to run his blade through the nearest man. 

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[shoshiwrites]

HAPPY TDS-IVERSARY AND 1000 FOLLOWERS MERC! TDS has been such a joy to read in over the past two (!!!) years and I can't be happier that it brought us together as friends.

You've created something truly remarkable here, and sustained it, and you should be very proud. Thank you for letting me plop Jo down in this sandbox, and, more importantly, for being a great friend and writing pal.

More of the universe where Jo covers the paragals: Merc's gorgeous What Love Looks Like and Interview at the Ritz, referenced in this piece, plus a little prompt fill I did with Jo and Marj.

Summary: Plucked from @mercurygray's Things You Said prompt list, "when I wasn't meant to hear." Jo observes more than just what goes on the page. Alternate summary: Local reporter goes 👀👀 at local lieutenants figuring out their feelings, more at 11.

love in your eyes

I.

Jo Brandt had learned not to put too much stock in rumors.

Rumors were speculation. Just talk, most of the time. Petty, sometimes. They were, above all, unverified. 

She’d gotten good at it too, distinguishing what was worth a follow-up and what was worth chalking up to wishful thinking or fear-mongering, or dismissed as pure gossip. This new story, the one she was sweating her shoes off down in Georgia to cover, certainly had its fair share of them. 

Most of them fell into any one of those prior categories and sometimes all of them, proving her point. She found herself squinting though, when it came to a certain pair of lieutenants. 

Winters and Warren. That they were both tall was her first impression, if a pointedly obvious one for Jo. Excellent posture, something she noticed during formations and practices and when they were simply headed their separate ways around the camp. Probably both rode horses growing up, Jo thought. Warren seems the type, at least. 

She wanted to say that they were capable, but that seemed premature. Unproven was the word that loomed large above the training grounds, above the paratroopers’ every move. 

The two of them certainly seemed so, capable. At least capable of admitting when there was a problem or when something wasn’t working, which seemed just as important to Jo. Perhaps most reassuring was the distinct lack of ego that accompanied their actions. 

Eileen Hammond certainly had theories about the redhead and Joan, as she called them, lacking the distance that Jo had and largely kept. Unsurprisingly, Jo found herself falling in with the enlisteds more than the officers. They were easier to talk to, most of the time, over stale coffee in the mess. Women like Marjorie Gordon and Doris Russo and Connie Schmidt. 

Women. 

Jo had made a promise to herself that they’d never be girls, though in terms of age alone that was probably closer to accurate. How boys was closer than men. Her editors always called them girls, called her one too. And there were always adjectives, pretty, perky, pert. Not ladies either, she vowed, too patronizing. No extra adjectives. No talk of beauty routines unless that information was volunteered. 

The public was on the edge of their seat for gossip, but Jo knew she wasn’t that kind of journalist. She could listen to Eileen and see the way she raised her eyebrows at her friend. Watch Nixon quirk his mouth at his redheaded counterpart in the rare times she spent with the officers. She could hear derisive whispers of Saint Joan and stay quiet. 

The pressure was unreal. Jo hardly envied it, to say the least. On Joan Warren especially, on all of the newly-minted female paratroopers. They were expected to be back home and dutiful, careful and rationing and ever-cheerful. Engaged in war work sure, but better to be engaged. Some kind of job that didn’t involve guns or, heaven forfend, ammunition. 

Women like Joan were expected to be charitable socialites, committee heads and Lux soap girls, the only thing military about them being their fiancés. Spotlights tended to burn when left too long. Left everything too bright to see. 

She didn’t quite understand Joan, she could admit that, or least where she came from. The weight of duty. But Jo knew about image and about reputation. That you only had one. And that once it was gone, it was gone. She twisted the ring on her finger, watched the stone catch the dusky October light. If keeping all your cards so close to your chest was the way to protect it, then she understood that very well. 

II. 

There were still rumors in England, and one of them was true at least — that she was back to cover them. 

Shuttling between London and Swindon meant less time with Easy, but enough they were still what she heard most about in mail from home. Between the questions and critiques and unsolicited suggestions, and, after her headshot ran at the insistence of her editors, more than a few marriage proposals, there were fan letters. It seemed a disservice to call them that though, or at least most of them. 

A science teacher in New Hope who’d clipped out Marjorie Gordon’s profile and tacked it up for their whole class to see. A housewife in Kensington who was proud of people like Billie Mitchell. War workers and WACs. A young girl in northern Maine who saw herself in Connie Schmidt. 

And, after her column on Joan Warren, a flood, no longer hiding what they all knew. Boy what a bombshell it was, or had been at the time. Jo was impressed more than anything. It said something, really said something, that Joan had so roundly refused special treatment. You saw that back at Toccoa though, didn’t you? Jo thought, feeling a little chastened at the idea that she might have expected some other outcome. She never looked anything less than dead-set. 

A determination shared by a certain lieutenant, if a little more quietly. Personality firstly, and because he hadn’t needed to prove what Joan had had to. Still was.

Joan was the genuine article. Jo heard it in the remarks of her friends and comrades, the look of quiet admiration in their eyes, as if they too were reassessing some initial judgment. Some had believed in her from the very beginning. Others pretended they had. Jo sensed, watching him, listening to the way he listened to her, that Richard Winters fell very firmly into that first category. 

She’d seen the woman herself, when they’d sat down for a coffee and a chat at the London Ritz. Jo had felt about as comfortable as a bull in a literal china shop, but Joan hadn’t given a clue that she noticed or cared. They’d seen each other. 

Joan was still careful though, if animated. Jo had hardly felt in a position to tell her that she deserved to have fun too. She could say something to Marj though, as she called her now, on the sidelines of a dance at Littlecote House.

“They look nice together, don’t they?” Like she was just noticing that maybe there was something between the two of them. Marj looked like she was biting back a smile. Someone had probably had to push the two of them together, dancing in front of all these people. Jo’s voice was only half serious as she watched them take a spin around the floor, barely lifted over the sound of the band. “Think we should start a betting pool?”

Marj folded her arms across her chest, an air of experience about her, an even tone. A chaperone back in her element, if a position she didn’t particularly care to be in. “Seems a little cruel.” 

“How many people’d’you think would pass up the chance?”

“Now, that’s a horse of a different color, Josephine.”

Jo smiled a little, tried surreptitiously to adjust the sleeve of her dress, well-tailored but several seasons out of date. “They really do make a nice couple.” She knew from her conversations with Marj that it would take more than a well-pressed uniform to impress Mr. and Mrs. Warren. Forget about Joan’s parents though, hell, what about General Six Stars at Sunday dinner? Jo blanched at the thought. 

“Speaking of different questions,” Marj started. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re very good at deflection?”

“Excuse me?”

“Corporal Toye has been over there twiddling his thumbs for the last twenty minutes and you’re still gabbing with me why?” Jo felt her cheeks go pink, and for once she had no response. “Go on, I’ll keep an eye on our lieutenants.”

“You know, The Clarion is always looking for new investigative talent,” she said, a little put out at being read so incisively. 

“Go.”

“Gee, a person might think you were trying to get rid of me.”

“I am.”

If she thought about it too long, Jo knew she’d turn around and head back to London. She couldn’t name it, the feeling in her chest when Joe’s eyes lit upon her in recognition. She couldn’t face it too long. She wondered how many other people in the room were feeling the same thing. 

III. 

England was very far away, by the time they got to Paris.

Normandy wasn’t. It echoed. Battlefields and wreck, the shouts that didn’t quiet, paint and gun grease, and telegrams home. They’d proven themselves, whatever that meant now. She worked on the outskirts, in the aftermath. She saw flooded fields in their eyes, hedgerows, Bloody Gulch, what they’d lost there. Who they’d lost there. The glances deepened, between friends, buddies, between people like Toye and Guarnere and Shapiro and Mitchell, Russo, Gordon. There were replacements too, which made the old hands well — old hands. She could hardly believe it. 

Even harder to believe too was who she saw walking down the other side of a Parisian boulevard, under a sky filled with pale bright clouds.

Coats with collars upturned, caps, arms linked. They were laughing, she could tell, even from a distance. Smiling. 

Good for them, Jo thought. Good for them. 

She put down her coffee as Kay leaned back in her chair, sipping a glass of weak lemonade like it was a flute of champagne. “What?” Kay’s voice was flat, as if she were discussing the weather or the minutes of Parliament. “Did you spot Hemingway out for a stroll?”

Jo tried to blink the look off of her own face. Winters and Warren. In Paris. Together. And were they holding ice cream cones? She looked down at her own hands and the ashtray, nervous that somehow she’d been caught staring. “No,” she said, a little strangled. 

“Well, then who was it?”

“Got time for another drink?”

By the time Jo was done, Kay’s expression was even more nonplussed than before. She took the last sip of her glass of wine. “They’re worse than you and your boxer.”

The only sound at the table then was the soft thwack of a newspaper against Kay’s arm, and the chirp of a bird feasting on crumbs. 

She thought of their smiles again, realized just how rare it was to have seen such a thing. Like the sun peeking through a gap in the clouds, on a day like today.

IV. 

Soon enough, Paris too seemed lifetimes past.

It was miserable, hellish, there were no other words to describe it. No saving grace here, only plasma warmed on the hood of a Jeep, only the scraps of warmth they found from huddling together in the cold and dark. The cold magnified warmth, she found. The dark did too.  

She returned from her unceremonious exit to hardened faces, shellfire still in their eyes. Back to her people, now, and she could finally think of them as that. As miserable a town as she’d ever seen, run through with mud and settled dust. 

She knew it was bad from the way Hannah hugged her without a word, from the set of Marj’s jaw. The farthest she’d ever felt from home, in that moment, and the closest.

They all looked fed, but barely. She didn’t care so much about distance now. Neither did those around her, she saw, heads on shoulders, arms around. Some pairs surprised her, and some didn’t, gathered in corners smoking or resting or being. There was the silent lighting of cigarettes, the double-check for supplies. You leaned on each other here. You had to. 

She watched as Joan handed Winters a mess cup half-full of what they were all pretending was coffee. Something warm. Her fingertips lingered several seconds too long, and Jo had to look away. 

V.

Most of Germany was a blur to Jo, if she could admit that. Austria, after. The sun was ghastly bright, the lake too blue. 

Her friends — and they were friends now, she didn’t see a point to denying that  — they didn’t look at her with pity, though. They all knew what had happened, what they’d seen. What it had taken from them, and how. They knew how much it hurt.  She didn’t have to explain herself here, least of all to someone like Joan Warren.

The hotel they were billeted in — the officers at least, and Jo — was large and well-appointed, sunlight slanting in and a coffee service always full. After an interview one weekday she helped herself, turned to see Joan poking her head in.

“Want some?” she offered, and suddenly remembered the afternoon years ago when the roles were reversed. How young they’d been, then. Still were.

She expected Joan to have somewhere else to be, some other demand on her attention, but Joan smiled. “I could have a cup.” She came over and took her sugar despite Jo’s offer to do it for her. “Let’s take them outside.”

It felt a little forbidden, holding the beautiful china out there on the balcony, in their laps, squinting out across the lake. She bit her tongue when she clued in to what exactly Joan was watching, or who, undressing down by the shoreline, with a look of fondness of her face. A mischievous little raise to her eyebrows that had Jo biting back a sudden giggle of delight.

They exchanged a few pleasantries about the day and then let the silence rest, the sunlight feeling welcome to Jo for the first time since they’d arrived. She thought about saying something to Joan about the future. About, well, Winters, he of the morning swims, who she’d seen Joan in the company of a lot more frequently than well…ever. 

They seemed more relaxed with each other here. Closer. She thought about mentioning Paris, but she didn’t. Some things were meant for two people only. 

How many people share what they shared, Jo thought. They’d been through hell together. She meant it when she said that. Not like the movie posters said or a newspaper headline. Someone who’d seen you in a fancy dress and in ODs you could stand up straight on their own with dirt and still see you beneath. 

Someone you didn’t have to explain yourself to and never would. It frightened her, the idea of having to. How do you think about that, she wanted to ask too. How do you know if you have it in you? 

But the questions all dissolved on her tongue. She took another sip of coffee, noticed that the sugar had all sunk to the bottom. “I wanted to thank you,” she started, and Joan turned, looking a picture there in her uniform and sunglasses. Jo wished she had her camera. 

“For what?”

Jo wasn’t sure where to begin. “Talking to me. At the Ritz.”

Joan’s face was open, her tone as if her response was something Jo already knew. “Thank you for listening.”

VI. 

She could hardly believe it, being back stateside, and even less when the phone she was lucky enough to have in the rental apartment rings on a Tuesday evening. 

She looked around the kitchen, afraid somehow that the dinner dishes were visible over the line. Joan Warren on the other end of her telephone! Almost as surprising as the person still pushing green beans around his plate at her kitchen table. How on earth did she get this number, Jo wondered, no one has this number, with a quiet amendment almost immediately afterwards. …Bill. 

“I know this isn’t quite your beat, Jo,” Joan was saying, her voice a little coy. “But is there any chance you might be interested in an item for the society pages?”

Well I’ll be.

Jo smiled, and she was pretty sure Joan could hear it. “How big are we talking?”

She heard Joan’s smirk on the other end of the line. “As big as my mother will have it.”

“Oh?”

She was definitely sure Joan heard Joe Toye’s whoop in Washington, D.C. 

#tds birthday bash #mercurygray #the darkening sky #...for tagging purposes #should get an au tag #jo's tag #this...will probably end up on ao3 later #title from a boogie belgique song because brand/etc #'brought us together as friends' #Read: I crashed your inbox and said I MADE SOMETHING FOR YOU IS THAT OK and you didn't say Get Out of My House. #shoshi writes

[inklore]

home is where you're mine

premise: in nevarro you and din can finally breathe and spend your days christening every surface of your home.

pairing: din djarin x (f)reader

word count: 911

warnings: eighteen+ content, established relationship, riding, unprotected p in v, tiny little taste of possessive!din, domestic life, public-ish encounter, 'etyc' means dirty, 'mesh’la' means beautiful.

note: did i have an absolute panic attack over actually writing in the mando world instead of doing an au? yeah yeah i did, but thanks to my bbys @psychedelic-ink and @pedrito-friskito i got over it and wrote this filth <3.

The skin on Din’s neck feels as hot as your body does. The sun, having gone down hours ago, did little to cool the warm air—the humidity that’s clinging to your body and making sweat gather at your brow and run down your spine as your breath heaves your chest with your ministrations. 

There’s an ache in the heel of your foot that you ignore. That does not deserve a second thought, maneuvering around, or changing of position when this one feels too good. 

When Din is letting you take control, letting your fingers move to the only skin visible and hold onto it like a lifeline. Like you’d float away from the building pleasure if you didn’t have something, some kind of contact that wasn’t his gloved hand bunching up your dress at the top of your ass so he can grip and pull you down onto his length. The only helping hand he’s giving.

Since the two of you had made—what you hoped was—a permanent home in Nevarro. Until another bounty called Din away, now giving you a place to safely wait for his return. A cabin big enough for the three of you. A space that wasn’t covered in scrap metal and piles of weapons or debris. 

You know, in truth, that you’d live under any conditions if it kept Din on your side. The child on your hip or by your feet. 

But this place felt special. Like the three of you could finally take a deep breath and let your guard down for half a second without feeling remorseful over it. 

The porch had quickly become Din’s favorite spot to relax. To put his feet up and watch the sky, the terrain—Grogu, as he basked in the daylight and played with his food. 

Which is where you found him tonight after the child had drifted to sleep and the two of you were alone. The planet seemingly quiet when it knew the two of you needed it. When you leaned against the doorway and Din held out his hand to you. Pulling you into his lap. A calming silence shared between the two of you as you took in the stars. 

A moment that seemed too good to pass up. To not continue to take advantage of the space you had been given to have Din inside of you. 

No need to sneak around or find a darkened corner. 

It’s as if the two of you needed to break in every surface within the new space. Home. 

Your cheek pressed into the wall, a counter, a table. Your fingers leaving indents in the fabrics of seats, beds, and blankets. It was only right that you carry on that same streak in Din’s favorite spot. 

“Should we-” he began, the shake of your head cutting him off as your hips rocked against him. As he grew the more your sweet whimpers fell, and your fingers danced along the beskar of his chest plate. “Etyc,” his gloved hand coming down to tap at your ass, making you grin.

It didn’t take long for you to free his cock and position him at your entrance. To get yourself this close from the motion of your hips, the angle making the fabrics of his pants rub against your clit with each gyrate. Each time he bucked up into you just a little harder than the last. 

You let out a gasp when the warmth of his glove covers one of your breasts. His fingers pull down the—now—flimsy fabric from your shoulder to reveal it to him. To rub his thumb over your nipple in circles that make your moans grow in octaves. 

“Mesh’la,” Din groans. 

If this were in the darkness of your room, your roles would be reversed. Your vision cut off from him while he saw you in full. Running his mouth along your body. His teeth nipping at your breast until your body was pushing against him for more, to be filled by him. 

And if you asked him to take you to your bed right now, he would. Happily. He’d draw out your orgasm by making you fuck his tongue, pulling away when you were at that precipice only to shove his cock inside your trembling walls. Repeating the actions until you’re begging him to let you come. 

You have many nights for history to repeat itself, though. 

Right now, you’re so close, and the way Din’s hips are moving in tandem with your own lets you know he is too. That neither of you could move even if you truly wanted to because your pleasure is too much. Coming to that crescendo that makes you see a galaxy behind your eyelids when you can feel him twitch against your clenching walls from reaching your climax together. 

The gloved hand at your breast trails up the column of your neck, gripping your chin to bring your forehead to the warmth of his helmet before splaying the palm over your mouth. “The sounds you make when you come are just for me.” He grunts, your hips moving in unison one, two, three more times before you’re both coming. Your moans fall into his hand. Caught and absorbed by the fabric as your body clenches and trembles against him. The deep bravado of the groan he tries to bite back shakes your chest as you lay against him. “Mine,” mixed into the jumble of words he spews breathlessly. 

#din djarin smut #din djarin x you #pedro pascal smut #din djarin imagine #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin blurb #pedro pascal x you #din djarin x f!reader

[delulufortoji]

HOW MANY TIMES? - toji fushiguro

pairing: toji x fem!reader

summary: you and toji have been together for over a year, but every time you say you love him, he never seems to be able to say it back…

word count: ~3k

content: 18+, modern au, established relationship, oral, overstim

notes: i was sick, tired, suffering from jjk brain rot, and it was like 1 in the morning when i wrote this so it might seem like some straight bullshit 😅 and this is like the first jjk fic i’ve ever written, so yeahhh

You still remember the night you two met, the memory ingrained clearly in your mind: it was a stormy afternoon, nature raging outside with branches scratching against your windows and leaves beating on the glass. The sky above darkened, the warm drizzle mixed with the humid breeze. Gray clouds drifted overhead, bringing a sudden chilling wind and shower with them, causing water to flow down the pathways and pool into puddles. The air itself carried an earthy scent, and the wilting leaves from the trees gracefully descended to join the wet ground. The soothing sound of rain trickling down the window added to the enchantment of the moment.

And then, there he was, behind your door, a strikingly toned and towering figure, utterly drenched, his hair clinging to his face, hands tucked in the pockets of his pants, and a subtle, intriguing smile playing on his lips. “Hey, can I stay here for a couple of days until the storm blows over? I ain’t got anywhere else to go.” He asked, his voice low and laced with a hint of vulnerability.

You could feel your jaw drop, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of shyness and amazement. This man…he was undeniably handsome—his bold and quiet confidence, his voice, his charming smile, all of it made your heart throb. “S—Sure…” you muttered, “ you can stay here.”

“There’s no need to be shy,” he chuckled, “I’ll be gone and outta your hair in a couple of days.”

The blush in your cheeks deepened. “Yeah, okay,” you replied shyly, avoiding his icy gaze, “go sit by the heater to warm yourself up. I’ll go get you a towel so you can shower.”

“Alright, then.” The man said with a sly grin.

You don’t quite recall how, but somehow “warming up” took on a different meaning than intended: you soon found yourself entangled with him, your body sweating underneath his touch, his hips meeting yours in monstrous thrusts. The room resonated with the sounds of your moans and his grunts, the intensity of the moment overwhelming both of you.

“F—Fuck Toji…slow down…” you gasped amidst the pleasure.

“Shh,” he whispered, silencing you by plunging his digits into your mouth, “the only sound I wanna hear is the sound of your pussy purring.” Toji's pace intensified, his grip on your hips growing more possessive. You couldn't contain your ecstasy, climaxing as fire surged through your body. His thrusts grew erratic, and his breath quickened in tandem with your movements.

On a high of both pleasure and euphoria, you did as Toji said—you let your pussy talk for you, breathlessly blurting out: “I love you, Toji.

“...Heh, do ya really?” A response less than what you expected. But the wave of pleasure that coursed through your body was too much for you to inject, to express your dissatisfaction at his answer.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Toji's presence became a permanent fixture in your life. He moved in, sharing the burdens of rent and groceries with a part-time job, allowing you to take more breaks. Yet, amidst this peaceful coexistence, there remained a lingering issue—those three words you so desperately wanted to hear repeated. Each time you uttered "I love you," Toji's response fell short, often met with laughter or a casual "Okay," leaving your heart yearning for the affirmation you craved.

You glance at him now from where you are: in the dimly lit room he sits, his eyes stuck on the dull glow of the phone in his hand. On instinct, you make your way over to Toji, settling into his lap, your fingers delicately toying with the fine ends of his hair.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he meets your gaze, curiosity dancing in his eyes. “What’s wrong, doll?”

You offer no answer, instead, you continue to run your fingers through the strands, captivated by the finely sculpted features of the man before you: his features seem meticulously crafted, each detail carefully considered in the making of Toji’s face, from the angular lines of his cheekbones to the gentle slope of his chiseled jawline. His pale, pink lips curve perpetually in a sly smirk, and his dark eyes hold an untamed intensity that ensnares your attention. You can’t help but be enamored, can’t resist the urge to confess, "I love you."

Another light laugh escapes his lips. "I know."

A heavy silence envelops you, leaving you taken aback by his lackluster response. Toji, still engrossed in his phone, finally asks, "Is there a problem?”

You can't help but press further, frustration building. “How many times do I have to say it before you say it back?”

"Say what back?"

You scoff. "You know what I meant." A hint of frustration colors your tone as you shift in his lap, turning away from him.

Toji pauses for a moment, carefully considering his words. "Baby, you know how I feel about you," he eventually concedes, though it seems more like a half-hearted attempt to soothe your emotions.

He doesn’t mean to be disingenuous, doesn’t mean to hurt you with his lack of a response. You know him well enough to know he isn’t one to verbally express how he feels, nor is he one to blurt “I love you’s”, but part of you had hoped that would change after a year of being together.

A frown etches itself into your features as you stand up, turning to the door. "You don't mean that."

“Where are you going?" He calls after you, a slight layer of concern evident in his voice.

"To sleep."

Determined not to let you go, Toji follows you into the room, pulling you closer by your waist. “C’mon baby. You know I ain’t mean to make you mad.”

“But you did.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he croons, resting his forehead on the nape of your neck, pressing light kisses to your skin. “My bad.” He turns you around so that you’re facing him, arms crossed.

“What do you want?” You ask.

A slight smirk plays on Toji’s lips as he inches closer—by now, you two are stuck in an intimate proximity, his breath tickling your face. Just being this close to you is enough temptation for him to pull you into a deep, passionate kiss, his rough hands cradling your face. “Let me make it up to you.” He whispers, his warm breath mingling with yours.

His lips curve into a smile on yours as he presses you down onto the bed. Toji positions himself between your thighs, his lips never leaving yours, not even for a second. His touch ignites a passionate fire as he explores your body, his tongue tracing a scorching path from your lips, down your neck, and further, leaving you breathless with desire.

“Toji…keep going…” As your pleasure mounts, you can't help but moan his name, encouraging him further. His hands explore your inner thighs, spreading his warmth, his kisses become more insistent. His tongue moves lazily down your panties, the subtle friction from the stubble on his chin heightening the sensations. Your breath quickens, and your thighs quiver as he slowly slides his thumb over the moist fabric of your underwear before deftly moving it aside.

Toji's breath, hot and tantalizing, teases your sensitive flesh, his lips hovering mere inches from your core. His eyes, heavy with desire, meet yours for a fleeting moment, and a mischievous smirk tugs at his lips. "Still shy, even after all this time?" he teases, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "C'mon, girl, put it on me."

“Stop talking,” You say, dropping yourself down his face, wrapping your legs around his neck, “just make this quick.”

“I’ll make it anything but.” His response is a wicked promise in itself. You barely manage to hold back a whimper when Toji dives into his task, latching his mouth onto your pussy, his tongue exploring every inch of your pulsating walls.

“Toji…” you moan, gripping his hair, pushing his head further down.

You lose yourself to the sensation, clenching from the pace of his tongue. Your hips begin to move on sheer instinct, riding his face—your fingers are tangled up in his hair, your fists tugging on his soft locks. You’re grinding on him, your body craving every sensation, every touch, every flick of his skilled tongue, and twitching every time something grazes your folds—Toji is so damn ruthless with his tongue that it has you feeling high, like you’re on cloud nine. His every touch, no matter how brief, drives you to the brink, leaving you in a blissful state of disarray.

“To–Toji…more…” Toji’s nose-deep now, the tip of it rubbing against your sensitive clit. He brings his head up, taking a moment to breathe. He’s gasping for air, his face is slick with your essence. He swallows and then after a couple of seconds, he goes right back to sucking.

He’d almost forgotten how good you tasted—a few minutes was enough to get him hooked on you all over again, getting hard at the sound of your whines echoing through the room. His tongue is running laps like a track star, only gaining in speed with each moan you emit. Each gasp, each whimper only pushes him closer to the brink of his desire.

He needed more of your moans, more of your sweet taste, more of you—he had lost himself in his cravings, only desperate for you. His strong hands trace your inner thigh, savoring the taste as he lavishes your pussy with his saliva, worshiping your wetness with his mouth. He laps at your cunt like a starved man–like the taste of you is all the nutrition he needs.

“I’m—I’m gonna…” you gasp, but he ignores you and just keeps going, his tongue working your clit, just the way you like it. He let his eyes close in ecstasy, feeling you as your hips bucked up into his mouth, groaning at the sensation. “Toji, please…” you whimpered, your need reaching its peak. He’s still going, making you wait until he’s finished eating, until you’re a fucking mess—until you’re quivering, reduced to incoherent pleas just to come. After a couple more minutes of teasing you, of edging you, he finally grants you the release you crave. As he lifts his mouth from your pulsing core, you can only grip his hair tighter, gasping his name until you can finally come down from the intense high.

He slides his mouth up to your lips, his mouth smooth and buttery on yours—the sheer thought of tasting yourself on his tongue right after he had just eaten you out was disgusting, but you can’t be bothered when Toji feels this good.

He stares at you, a grin playing on his lips. “You forgive me now?” he asks, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You shake your head, huffing out the words: “Sh–shut up, Toji.”

He looks at you with a cocky smirk, his hair matted to his face, his breathing heavy, but his dark blue eyes, normally cold and distant, are now aflame with longing and desire—he said without words what he rarely admitted with him.

“Open wide.” He says, his voice a low, sultry rumble.

You take off your shirt and lie down on your back, legs spread out—you look so fucking hot for him, sprawled out like this, your pussy soaking wet and on full display. You’re an irresistible vision of his desire, every curve of your form a masterpiece in his eyes. God, he can almost feel himself stretching you out and you clenching, tightening around him, and he’s not even inside you yet.

He can’t bear to wait any longer, can’t bear to hold it in—he’s throbbing, desperate to plunge into you, to be buried deep within your warmth. He needs to be balls deep inside of you, right fucking now. Toji brings out his cock with a groan, and god, is he full and aching to be inside you—only you could ever get him this hard.

He pulls your hips closer to him, dick poised at your entrance. “C’mon girl,” he says with a slight grunt, a hint of impatience in his voice. That’s when he slowly begins his descent into you, inch by inch—he’s not even fully in, but his tip alone is enough to steal a small gasp from your lips.

You stare at him and whimper, feeling him as he forces himself deeper. He is so big—his thick, rigid shaft glides within your velvety folds, leaving you trembling and powerless to resist. You bite your lower lip to stifle your cries, completely lost in the waves of lust that crash over you. “To…Toji…” You’re already babbling as he buries himself balls deep into you. Toji’s hips slap against yours once—a single thrust already has you moaning, salivating at the sensation, arms wrapped around his neck.

With your hand pinned above your head, fingers interlocked with his, Toji rocks into you with an intensity that borders on primal. His forehead is nestled in the crook of your neck, his ragged and hot breath caressing your soft skin, his free hand claiming every inch of your skin as his own. He’s pistoning his hips with a purpose, stretching you open with each thrust, the physical sensation and the raw intimacy between you both like a potent drug. Toji focuses on the tight heat of your walls around his cock, the way your hips meet his rhythm, the delicious way you clench around him as his dick stretches your pussy out. It should be illegal how good you feel to him right now.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Toji murmurs in your ear, his voice a husky, sensuous melody that rings through the room. “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’.”

His words are so provocative, so disgusting, yet so fucking hot—they make you want to continue, to keep teasing him with the way you feel to the point where his cock is twitching, throbbing inside of your wet heat, to the point where he can’t thrust into you anymore.

“M-More.” Your whining intensified—his movements are becoming sloppier, his thrusts beginning to lose their pattern as he loses himself in the melody of your cries and the intoxicating sensations you provide. His tip is just attacking your sweet spot, stealing those beautiful noises out from your mouth. Toji can’t focus anymore, can’t maintain his rhythm—you’re just too damn loud for him to think about anything else but you: the way your lips part each time you moan, the way your nails dig into the muscles on his back, the way you writhe under him.

The pace of his hips quicken, the beautifully lewd sound of his balls slapping against your ass and your moans filling the room. “Fuuuckkk—” Toji grunts. Just one round with you has him in disarray—his black strands are a mess, drenched with sweat, his ruffled hair obscuring his vision with how it fell over his eyes. But even in this fevered state, he’s fucking you like there’s no tomorrow, his relentless thrusts making your throbbing core scream for more.

“Toji…Toji…” His dick throbs each time his name falls from your beautiful lips in breathy cries, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth. His lips find yours in fervent kisses, his navy blue eyes locked onto yours as his hips meet yours with increasing urgency.

He’s so damn rough with you, but he can’t help it, especially when you feel like a slice of heaven—he’s ruthlessly fucking you into the bed, grunts escaping his mouth every time he does so. You’re stuck in a passionate trance, each strike to your core, vigorous and accurate—fuck, it’s got your throbbing pussy yearning out for more.

“Goddamn, Toji—” You stammer, rendered incapable of finishing your sentence, shuddering with the hypnotizing movement of Toji’s hips, with the intoxicating feel of him inside of his body. His thick cock is being engulfed by your sheer warmth, each pulse only stretching you out more. “S–so good.”

Toji grumbles, and you whimper as his base repeatedly strikes you, his every thrust taking you deeper. You're lost in the heady pleasure, your core gripping him tightly, refusing to let go, making him push harder and faster.

The repeated sound of his skin slapping against yours becomes a relentless symphony of pleasure: slap, slap, slap. He’s losing himself even more, completely drunk off of you—he just can’t help himself. You’re like a drug. And fuck, did you look pretty beneath him, giving him the most spectacular view of your body. Tits on full display, your eyes rolling back each time he hits your sweet spot. He can’t help but breathe heavily when he looks down at you naked under him. Bites and hickeys cover your flawless skin, and shit, did the sight of those marks drive Toji wild.

Toji’s brows furrow together, and the pace of his hips begins to slow for a brief moment. He chuckles softly and brushes a strand of hair from your eyes, his voice carrying an unexpected tenderness. “Hey–I love ya. I really do. Our feelings are mutual.” It’s not the confession you were hoping for, but still, it was his own unique way of confirming what you had been longing to hear—his own way of confirming that he had never felt for anyone the way he felt for you.

With a contented sigh, he releases a thick load, and you feel it deep within you, your inner walls stretching to accommodate his passion. You laugh lightly and pull him closer, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your nails digging themselves deeper into Toji’s back. "F–faster, Toji... k–keep going..."

“So needy.” He obliges, pounding his cum deeper into you. He sighs gently, his lips curling up into a smile against the curve between your neck and shoulder. “Anything for ya, baby.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x you #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk smut #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji smut #i wrote this at like 1 am #BUT ISTG TOJI IS FINE 🤤

[jasonsmirrorball]

BLOOD IN YOUR MOUTH JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ the first time jason kisses you he's bloody and bruised, and you can't find him more attractive for it

cw: injury, blood, mentioned harassment (not of the reader)

blank blogs DNI you will be blocked

The first time Jason kisses you, he’s bloody and standing underneath a streetlight outside the bar he’s just been kicked out of. You’re utterly enamoured.

It is a Saturday afternoon, and you’ve just submitted your last midterm when the text comes through. The outline of his name on your phone sends a thrill down your spine, and you can’t help the curl of excitement. 

J-A-S-O-N. 

You trace your eyes over the letters, the blank contact photo doing little to curb the butterflies. They’re no less stronger than when he’d asked you for your number, a warm afternoon after class when the both of you had found your way to the your usual table in the library. You recall the reason he’d used, recall the slant of his mouth as he’d talked, the clutch of his bag in his fingers, the way the light had bent through the window and caught the dust floating above the table. You recall suddenly warm palms, fingertips hot to the touch as you saved his number when the first message had come through. 

>> come out tonight?

You frown.

While it’s true that since the beginning of the semester you’ve gotten to know Jason better and as a not entirely unpleasant consequence, been better about hiding away, you’re still tired from the back to back assignments you’ve had to turn in. You’d much rather turn in for the weekend. 

And yet, when it comes to the handsome boy you’d met in your literature class last semester, you find it hard to say no. You want to hang out with him so badly sometimes it feels embarrassing. You wonder if it’s obvious how you both soak up his attention and shy away from it. Even months later, you find yourself bashful around him.

As if sensing your hesitation, another two messages come through almost immediately, in rapid succession.

>> it’ll be fun

>> dinner’s on me btw

You chew your lip, staring down at the message. 

<< i'm kind of tired idk

<< where do you wanna go

The text bubble appears as you begin to pack your things, sweeping papers off your desk and into a neat pile, collecting cluttered pens and highlighters. The last week has turned your bedroom into something akin to a disaster site, clothes strewn everywhere and sheets rumpled. You bite back a groan at the thought of the cleaning you’ll have to do. 

>> i know a place like ten minutes away from campus

>> drinks after?

<< presumptuous

<< i haven't even agreed

>> ok so agree !

>> it’ll be a good time

You huff out a laugh at his tone, typing out a response.

<< who else is going?

>> just you and me kid

>> be excited

>> i’ll drop you home if you wanna leave after dinner

In the bathroom now, tidying the mess of skin and hair products, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You tilt your head, and your reflection does too, as if to say, well? Will you?

You text him your response.

<< ok when should i meet you?

<< send me the address

Jason is lingering outside the restaurant when you walk up, and you take a moment to admire him as you approach, hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched, relaxed. His hair looks wet, and orange light washes over him where he stands beneath an awning, a sky of darkening blue behind him. As if sensing your approach, he turns his head from where he’s been looking at something across the street and his eyes light up in recognition. Your name tumbles from his lips and he takes a step forward as you cross the distance.

“Hey,” he greets you, smiling down at you. “You made it.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” you murmur. His lips stretch into a wider grin and you catch a glimpse of his canines, wolf sharp, a shiver curling down your spine at the sight.

“Guess you did. I’m glad. Come on,” he says, jerking his chin and reaching for the door, letting you enter first. “I think you’ll like this place.”

His shirt brushes against your back, and you swallowed by the sheer size of him, tall and broad shouldered, but it feels reassuring to have him there, especially as the hostess makes eye contact with you and he smoothly coordinates everything. His hand bumps against your elbow as she leads you both to a table and he murmurs out an apology at the same time you do, habitually, shooting you a funny look when he hears you, like he’s amused.

You’re seated across from him at a table so small his knees bump against yours beneath the table and he laughs a little when you say sorry once again. It isn’t the first time you’ve hung out with him, or the first time you’ve gotten food together–a semester has come and gone since your meeting him, and now the fall semester has started up again, but he has a way of short-circuiting your system, earnest and straightforward and far prettier than he has any right to be. You aren’t used to boys like him–though a voice in your head suggests that there isn’t anyone else like him. 

You offer him a small smile when he laughs. 

“Can’t believe they stuck us here,” he says to you, dropping his voice as a waiter passes your table. You look over to where a fair few tables far larger than yours remain unoccupied, and grimace in sympathy. “At least the food is good.”

You look up from the menu, sparing him a glance. He’s all rounded edges and sweeter looking in the soft light. You look back down.

“You’ve been here before?” you ask, feeling silly for the question but he nods.

“My brother took me, when I first moved out here,” he says, scratching idly at his cheek. Teal eyes skim the plastic menu. “We come here whenever he comes to visit.”

“Older brother?” you guess and he hums. 

“Dick,” he says, and his eyes widen when you stare at him. “His name, I mean. That’s his name…Richard, but he goes by..yeah.”

“Oh,” you laugh, as your pulse flutters under your skin. “Bet he gets a lot of flack for that.”

“You have no idea,” he snorts, launching into a story that has you covering your mouth to stifle your laughter. 

Somehow, dinner flies by faster than you think it would, a blur of stories from both your childhood and his. Jason asks questions and you don’t feel as though you’ve been put on the spot, pleasantly warm as you answer through your own laughter. The bubbles from your drink linger and pop on your tongue, and there’s a flush in your face that you blame wholly on him and his teal eyes, attentive and animated as he describes his family.

The both of you are pushing out of the door after an argument about splitting the bill (“I said I would pay, get lost!” and “I didn’t even agree to that!”) that had left you pouting and Jason smug. The rush of air that greets you is cool against your heated cheeks, and you smile to yourself as the both of you step out into the street.

“So?” Jason asks and you turn to him. “Was I right? It was good, huh?”

And he looks so pleased with himself that even if you hadn’t enjoyed a bit of it, you wouldn’t have it in you to tell  him.

“It was,” you agree and his smile grows broader.

You lapse in conversation for a moment, and a breeze ruffles his hair on its way through the lit street. It’s grown fairly busier as night falls, crowds of people out to enjoy their weekend, and you step closer to Jason as a particularly large group passes you, falling into step by his side to avoid bumping into them.

“So..home?” he asks, tentative.

“I think so.” You chew the bottom of your lip. “I got up early to get in the finishing touches on my midterm.”

His eyes go soft, almost immeasurably fond, as he gazes down at you. “Of course you did. Alright, c’mon, then. Let’s get you home.”

He takes your hand gently, fingers circling your wrist loosely and guiding you down the busy street. You find yourself appreciative of this, even as the butterflies erupt anew in your stomach at the touch, his body carving a path in the flow of foot traffic that you can fall into easily without worry of getting lost. 

The both of you walk in silence, the sounds of the city filling in the gaps around you. You admire the outline of Jason’s profile in front of you, light from the cars and storefronts washing over the both of you and throwing him into sharp technicolour focus in front of you. You feel a little dizzy at the sight of it, and looking down to where your hands join only worsens it, rendering you soft and pliant in his hold, tracing his footsteps with your own. 

And then, all of a sudden, you’re coming to a halt in front of a parking lot next to a bar, nearly colliding with his back. You blink, equal parts sleepy and stunned, peering over his shoulder where he’s stiffened up. 

“What?” you ask. He reaches into his pocket with his free hand, and turns around to pass you a set of keys. You frown, confused, following his finger when he points to an old, red car just a few feet away.

“That’s my car, I’m just gonna go check on something over there,” he says, tipping his head back to gesture to the bar. “Can you get it started for me? I won’t be long.”

“Is everything okay?” you ask, and now you’re the one holding his wrist as he turns, taking a half step after him. He looks back at you, and his mouth relaxes, offering you a reassuring nod.

“‘S fine, sweetheart,” he assures, pushing you gently in the direction of his car. “Be back in a sec.”

But curiosity roots you to the pavement where you stand, and you watch as he walks to the entrance of the bar, where murky yellow light spills out onto the walkway. Several bench tables have been pushed together on the outer side of the path, smaller tables with high stool chairs pressed against the exterior wall of the establishment. It’s fairly empty outside, all the patrons seeking shelter from the chilly weather inside and you step a little closer to see when Jason, shoulders set like a man on a mission, crosses the threshold and disappears into the building.

You creep a little closer, keys clutched in your fingers, until you can get a look through the windows. They’re a little stained, but you find Jason eventually, crowding close to a pool table where a boy around your age is leaning down, cue stick pointed against green felt. His back is to the window, but you watch the guy pause and straighten up, annoyance clear on his face even as he tries to cover it up with a smile you don’t think you like too much, self-assured and a little mean. There isn’t any friendliness in it. 

Outside, the wind begins to pick up and you’re wondering whether you should just return to the car–every bad thing in the movies happens because people can’t mind their own business–when suddenly, so fast you almost miss it, his fist flies out and knocks right into Jason. You jump in surprise, a hand flying to your mouth to muffle the startled yell that slips out. 

But Jason is seemingly unphased, and you catch a glimpse of blood in his mouth as he– smiles. It’s nothing like the smiles you’ve ever seen, wild and a little feral as he lunges forward, knuckles slamming against the boy’s cheek and sending him sprawling across the tabletop. He just gets that hit in before he’s being restrained and hauled back to the door, shoved across the threshold with no regard for gentleness. He stumbles, and that grin is still curving his mouth up when he looks up, wolfish, savage, and–it stutters when he meets your eyes.

You stare back, wide eyed at the sight of him. His keys hang limply in your hand, forgotten in favour of their owner whose nose has begun to bleed down his chin, drippin onto the collar of his shirt and staining it crimson. 

“I–thought I told you to wait in the car,” he says weakly, at last. 

“What was that?” you ask, dazed, ignoring him. You look between him and the windows of the bar, where you can still see the other boy, holding a tea towel to his split cheek. 

His lips part, and he looks away as if to search for an answer he does not have. Like a magnet, your gaze flicks down. You swallow at the smear of red that settles above his cupid’s bow, dark, almost black as the shadows on his face stretch.

“Jason.” You stress his name. He grimaces.

“I didnt-” he breaks off, letting out a loud sigh. “I knew him, okay? Didn’t do that for no reason.”

You wait, sensing the oncoming explanation. By his side, you spot the reddening skin of his knuckles, looking at home amongst the pale, faded scars.

“He’s a dick,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It seems almost shy, the way his fingers press against his lips as he tells you the truth. “He’s in one of my classes and he was giving one of the other guys a hard time ‘cause..” 

His face hardens and you fear he’s about to go back into the bar. You hedge a step forward to clutch his sleeve. He shakes his head. You don’t let go. “Anyway, he had it coming. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else. He was bothering some girl in there too, when I saw him…piece of shit.”

Affection blooms between your ribs so suddenly it leaves you breathless, and you stare up at him, stunned.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he blows out a breath, watching you carefully. 

“I thought you’d hit him harder,” you blurt out, and his eyes widen. He lets out a tired laugh, wincing in between snickers.

“Don’t think you’re s’posed to agree with me, baby,” he murmurs, drawing closer. You’ve probably stretched his sleeve out with your grip, but you make no move to let go. Baby. It fits in his mouth, belongs to him, even. He’s claimed it now. 

“Right,” you breathe out, blinking up at his face. The air goes still, the undercurrents of adrenaline re-igniting with the trip of your voice over the five letter word. There is no admonishment in your tone, and teal eyes turn onyx in half a breath, lashes fluttering as he looks at you. “Violence…is bad..”

His eyes crease, amused, but he’s barely moving, and his voice comes out a little strangled. “Word of advice, don’t ever go into politics.”

“You don’t believe me?” you joke quietly and he huffs out a laugh. Once more, your gaze snags on the glimpse of his canines, peeking from below his lips, pointed and shiny.

You can smell the blood on him when he takes a step closer, the toes of his sneakers scuffing against yours. You look at him clearly, awash with the yellow light of the street, bloody and bruising. He’s lucky that he isn’t due back on campus for another two weeks, but you have a feeling it wouldn’t matter either way–he’s no less attractive to you. It should concern you that you find blood a good look on him, or that the savagery in his smile only made your heart beat a little faster, but you can only stare through half lidded eyes at him.

Somewhere down the road, the roar of an engine filters through the air, but you pay it little attention when he draws closer, closer, closer. 

You aren’t sure who moves first, only that Jason kisses you for the first time underneath that streetlight, and the taste of copper in your mouth only presses you closer into him, clutching his sleeve and hoping it leaves as much of a mark that he’s left on you. 

i hope this made u guys feel as insane reading it as it made me writing it (and trying to post it, but for a different reason). something about a man covered in his own blood...

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jersey boy au #jason todd college!au #jasonsmirrorball

[sprout-fics]

Rotes Mädchen: Chapter 9 (Final)

(Werewolf! König x Red Riding Hood! Reader)

(Art by the lovely @zwienzixes)

(Masterlist)

Word count: 5.7k Rating: Mature Tags: Werewolf! König, Fairytale AU, Monster Hunters TF141, Witch Laswell, Traditional German Fairytale setting, World Building/Lore, F! Reader, Mating/Claiming Bites, Werewolf reveal, Chase and takedown, Happy ending Warnings: None A/N: Thank you to everyone who supported this series. I'm so immensely grateful to everyone who provided inspiration, encouragement, and support for this story. I'm so proud to be finished. Thank you so much.

Once more into the woods you run.

The glow of the village has long since faded behind you, the shouts and cries of the villagers as they ready themselves for the incoming devastation a mere echo through the trees. The wind muffles it, whispering through dry branches of sinister shadows and creatures that lurk within the groves around you. The breeze ruffles your skirt, tosses your scarlet cape across your form. Far above the canopy, the smoke from the burning wreckage of your home billows into the sky. The gentle, yellow light of the full moon now drips red from the fire, casting a hazy, crimson curse against the forest below.

It washes over your form as you turn your face to the sky, look to the moon which hangs as a deathly omen to all that gaze upon it. You wait for the towering figure of a wolf to rise far above the branches, to open its jaw and take the moon between its dripping fangs. Ink dark clouds roil before it, and in them you see the eyes of the beast threatening to stare back at you. They pin you where you stand, stare down through the trees and echo a growl to the rising wind.

The forest once felt like an ally to you. Now, it sets to betray you.

Konig is here, somewhere, amidst the trees. Feverish and dazed as he is, he couldn’t have gotten far from the village. Yet in the darkness, where you can scarcely see a few steps ahead of you, it’s impossible to find any tracks to lead you forward. Instead, your voice rises high to the heavens in a desperate bid to summon him to you.

“Konig!!”

It feels like it hardly carries above the wind that rakes through the trees, rustling leaves across the darkened path before awash in malevolent scarlet from the light of the moon. Your voice cries out through the trees as a wailing call, a tearful attempt to find the man who had held you in his arms and whispered endless devotions.

You don’t understand. Why did he leave, when you begged him not to? When he swore he’d stay, when he had asked you if you’d ever walk out of the woods beside him?

Was it all just a lie?

The forest holds all secrets. Now, it holds him away from you as well.

You make your way forward quietly, knowing you are far from alone in these woods. The threat of the beast within remains, and inside your thoughts the sonorous echo of his ominous howl reverberates in an endless omen. The memory of the towering, monstrous thing from the first night the witchers had come upon these woods has haunted you all this time.

Taller than any man, a huge, lumbering thing. Its arms too long, ears standing atop its furry head, huge spine hunched forward as a pair of gleaming, yellow eyes gaze at you from the trees. Fangs snarl at you in the confines of your mind, and you feel yourself caught between yellowed teeth as the thing crunches down in a killing blow. You think for a moment you hear the sounds of it giving chase above the rapid echo of your own terror, and despite yourself you venture a gaze behind you as Price’s horse thunders down the misty midnight path towards the safety of the village.

You see just a glimpse of it from beyond your fluttering red cape, a shadow that dwarfs your thoughts, a gaze that fixates on you from afar, seeming to promise ‘Soon, little maiden. Soon.’

Soon. You knew this entire time you would come to face the beast. A premonition lurked within you like a fawn disguised amongst the brambles, concealed and fragile, waiting for a thing you could not see. Trembling, it hid from shadows, blinked at the moving figures above, listening to the growl that prowled in search of your quivering form.

You thought you’d have more time.

Now, with the blood moon rising, the wind carrying the sound of your voice in a desperate cry, the darkness swallowing you whole, you fling yourself towards that violent fate. You run forward as panic mounts within you, feet thudding against the cold earth as you search for the soul of your beloved.

He’s here, you can feel it. You know you’ll find him, throw yourself into his arms and dry your face against his shirt as his arms close protectively around you. Somehow, you’ll find yourself facing the wolf together, finding a way forward as you both have vowed. Escape, or death, as long as he holds his hand in yours.

A howl splits the sky.

It begins as a low note and rises to full pitch just as goosebumps erupt across your skin in terror. The sound is deafening. It feels like it’s all around you with no discernible source, calling out your name as a herald of your demise. The howl shakes the ground below your feet, feels like it cracks the earth so you fall down into the endless forest, the branches closing above you as an inescapable prison.

You feel your chest rising unevenly, limbs shaking and breath curling away from you in a gasping billow of air. Terror roots you to where you stand, stifles your voice so the utterance of his name is a mere whisper.

“Konig.”

He said he’d protect you. He said he’d stay.

You knew you tasted lies on his tongue when you kissed him.

Yet you refuse to release him without giving chase.

You run forward once more, the apocalyptic red of the moon radiating off your scarlet cape, dyeing your figure the color of blood. The color of your inescapable fate.

Please. You beg the gods who do not listen. Let me see him. One more time. Let me kiss him and whisper words there even as I’m devoured.

Once more into the woods you run.

Shadows dance at the edge of your vision, and you spin towards them, eyes wild as you try to find Konig, the creature amongst them.

“Konig!!” You call again, listening for his answering call. You flee deeper into the woods, praying that with your next step you don’t find a mangled corpse at your feet.

Yet in the light of the moon, what you find instead is just as horrifying.

Fabric waves in the wind from a sapling that bends to the breeze, and as you near you catch it between your hands.

A dark, poorly sewn covering. The hood he used to cover his face.

Yet there’s no bloodstains, no indication of injury. Almost as if he had torn it from his figure himself. You gaze down at it, fingers tracing the seams, eyes not understanding. Had he shed it in his fevered state, full of delusions?

It doesn’t matter. He’s close, you can tell. Once more, you raise your voice to the rising wind in a cry for him.

“Konig!!”

Yet in the echo of your call, the woods fall ominously silent. The whisper of winter on the wind stills to a quiet hush, tickling the edge of your cape before it falls into stillness. The sway of the trees gently wavers to a halt, and even the clouds above seem to pause in their journey across the sky. The forest holds its breath, allowing the drum of your heartbeat to pulse too loud in your ears.

In the soundless woods around you, you feel an awareness prickle sharp across your neck, racing down your spine in acute realization.

You’re being watched.

Then, a growl.

Fear pulses in tandem with the icy rush of blood in your veins, chest compression the air in your chest into a silent, trembling breath. The low, grinding sound of the growl reverberates ceaselessly in your thoughts, echoing there with the sound you heard so long ago, on the day you began to be plagued by nightmares of the hulking, towering figure that haunts the woods.

You turn in slow motion, limbs shaking, eyes wild and unblinking. You feel as if you move through water, and even as something pulses inside you to run, RUN! you can’t seem to make yourself flee. You remain grounded to the spot, the roots of your feet extended deep into the earth and planting you where you stand. Instead you’re forced to turn to gaze upon the thing that you know will be your destiny.

You expect a shadow, a hulking mass the same as the one you saw in the woods that night. Yet instead the first thing you see is the eyes, the pair of glowing, golden orbs that stare at you from the trees that arch above your trembling form.

Yet then the thing rises, its front paws leaving the earth as it grows taller, taller. With every heartbeat you watch as the beast ascends to its full height, the golden eyes rising through the branches, seemingly past the canopy. An ancient, primordial terror seizes inside you as the monster dwarfs you with its massive size, centuries of instinct bred into your veins by your ancestors to fear the thing before you, to regard it with such terror it urges you to flee to the end of the earth just to avoid its killing bite.

The werewolf raises its muzzle up into the sky just as the clouds part, reddened light streaming through and alighting the creature in the blood red drip of the sky above. It parts its jaws in a snarl, claws extended outwards to reveal the muscle in its arms and torso, fangs gleaming in the ruby glow that makes scarlet ooze from its mouth as it parts-

and howls a catastrophic omen to the heavens.

You will yourself to cover your ears, but your fists remain at your side, one hand still gripping the fabric of the man you may never see again. Instead, your eyes remain locked on the werewolf that towers far above you, with such monstrous height and size you think it may devour you whole.

He can swallow the moon. You think with such stomach-turning dread that every other thought within you sucks into petrified silence.

I’m going to die.

It’s that thought that finally releases you.

You’re sprinting away before you can process the ground moving under your feet, boots thudding against the earth as you fling yourself further into the trees. The long note of the beast’s howl trails after you, dimming to nothingness as the wind rises once more, as your own heaving breaths muffle every other sound in the world around you.

RUN.

You weave deftly between the branches and trunks of the trees around you, your smaller size an advantage to the monster’s lumbering stature. The forest reveals itself to you at last, seems to part before you as you hurl yourself in an unknown direction, a bloodied path with a fatal end. The trees swallow you, try vainly to hide you within their depths as you feel the earth thud, and the monster finally gives chase.

You suck in air desperately, chest compressing in dangerous hyperventilation as you flee. You can’t stop it, you don’t even try, knowing every single moment could be your last. Legs pumping, you try to remember which way you came, trying to remember the dips of brooks and streams, of crags to hide yourself in, the way back in the direction of town in a vain bid to lure the beast into the swords of the hunters there.

Yet in your chest a single word echoes out in a deafening prayer, a scream for rescue towards the one who vowed to protect you.

“KONIG!!”

The beast follows behind you, and you feel the ground shaking under your feet as it closes the distance, tearing trees like branches as it carves a path forward towards your fleeing form. You hear the crack of wood- the sound of an ax hammering through trunks, felling ancient oaks just to taste the warm drip of your blood against its fangs. Each step it takes trembles the earth like a war drum, every beat within your chest feels like the moments ticking until the jaws seize about form, crushing you in half as your scream fills with scarlet-

PLEASE!! You shriek vainly towards the gods, tears filling your eyes with the futility of this chase, knowing it only ends one way. ONCE MORE. LET ME SEE HIM JUST ONCE MORE.

The moon stares balefully down upon your crimson clad form. Silent, imminent, unavoidable since before the day this story began.

Your cape snags against a bramble of thorns, and at the speed you launch yourself with the tie around your neck chokes the air from your lungs. You tug frantically at the fabric, hearing it tear as you rip yourself free, casting a single glance over your shoulder at the thing behind you.

It’s several long strides away, once more on all fours, steam streaming from its dripping maw as it pants and gives chase. Paws the size of your head impact the earth, drumming a rhythm there that screams higher with the pulse between your ribs. The golden eyes trace you as you stumble in your terror, promising a fatal bite that grows closer with every passing second.

You’ll never outrun it.

You try desperately to think past the veil of all consuming fear within, trying to find a solution, a way out, a path forward further into the woods so deep it cannot find you.

The solution comes before you can fully consider it. In the darkness, you don’t see the dip of the stream bank ahead of you. You yelp as you fall forward, unintentionally launching yourself into the water below. It’s not so deep it covers you fully, but the sudden shock of the cold brook manages to steal the air from your lungs as you raise yourself up with shaking limbs. The deafening huff of the beast is just beyond you, and in blind terror you lurch forward once more.

Yet the forest, in all its secrets, offers you a hidden enclave, a shelter. Your hand finds the deep swell of a space between the rocks, damp and shadowed, a space just large enough to fit yourself into. Your chest heaves in gasping breaths as you cram yourself into it, allowing the rocks to swallow you. It’s in his memory, you think, remembering the way you found Konig curled into the same hollow between the trees and rocks, eyes terrified and somehow hopeful as he once reached for you.

He could be already dead. Devoured by the wolf, and with you never having the chance to say goodbye.

Yet you stifle your tears as the werewolf pounces into the stream with a throat tearing snarl, snuffling along the bank’s edge in an effort to trace your scent. You pray that your fall into the water has erased the smell of your fear it uses to follow you, that the shadows of your small enclave conceal you enough to avoid the gaze of its glowing, golden eyes.

You can hear the monster splashing in the stream, growling in frustration as it tries and fails to detect you, nose lifting to the wind to catch your scent. It barks in growing anger, the sound full of ire, grinding deep in its throat. You shiver in the darkness, frigid, wet, shaking from head to toe in your fear. You force yourself to try and not even breathe, for fear the monster will somehow hear that too. You wish in a futile prayer for the moon to set, for the sun to rise and the monster once more to fade into the trees, away from your terrified form huddled into the embankment.

Please. Please. Please. Go away. Just go. Please.

The monster howls towards the sky once more in an angered cry, and the sound shakes the earth under you, seems to echo off the rocks that ensconce your form. The whimper that bubbles up your throat is muffled by the roar, and you shift to gather your cape tighter around you as if it somehow offers a shield of protection.

Then, the world goes silent.

You’re clenched so tight you almost don’t notice at first, eyes scrunched shut and figure curling in on itself as much as the space will allow. A sob clings to the back of your throat, and you will it through sheer force into silence unless it betrays you. Yet the huff and growl of the monster beyond you has vanished. The stream babbles gently in its absence, a soft, almost soothing sound paired with the rustle of trees far above.

You wait a long breath, wait longer for your heart to begin to still before you allow your shoulders to drop, your eyes to open.

Only to stare into the golden gaze of the werewolf.

You scream, and scream louder as a claw snags the edge of your cape, allowing the monster to drag you from your shelter.

“NO. NO!!” You shriek, struggling as the thing parts its jaws in a sinister snarl. Your hands work frantically at the tie around your collar, fingers fumbling as you fall onto your side, the impact rattling the air from your heaving chest.

Somehow, you manage to free yourself, and as the monster plucks the red fabric of your cape between its fangs, you miraculously manage to dart under one of its massive legs and fling yourself up the slope of the embankment. You claw at branches and roots, fingers digging at dirt as you somehow haul yourself up onto solid ground once more. Yet you have not a moment of relief, not as the monster quickly realizes your ruse and gives chase once more.

You cry as you flee, trying to remember the sacraments for the dead as the warm breath of the monster falls upon your nape, quickly closing the distance behind you. A sob tears from your throat, and the memory of your beloved’s gentle embrace, his kisses and devotions provide no shelter from the monster that pursues you.

A swipe to your legs is all it takes to send you tumbling, ground rushing up to greet you harshly. Yet even then you try to struggle away, crawling forward, your eyes streaming with tears. The monster looms above you, uses a mere ounce of strength to flip you onto your back, pin you beneath a single, massive paw.

“Konig.” You sob, vainly trying to dislodge the weight above you, a futile effort as the wolf lowers its maw towards your weak and prone form. A growl reverberates all the way from its chest down into the marrow of your being, and it once more forces a wordless cry as you’re pressed helplessly into the earth.

The werewolf stares down at you, muzzle bunched in a snarl as it lowers its muzzle closer towards the soft, tender arch of your throat. The bite from Konig remains there, and you sob as you remember the words he whispered as he engraved a claiming mark into your flesh.

"Rotty." He growls again, voice deeper, somehow feral. "My Rotty."

Wild, somehow, as he’d held you, barely able to restrain the savageness inside him that seemed more creature than man.

You blink, lips parting, breath caught in your throat as somehow the forest reveals all things kept secret within its depths, at last allowing you to glimpse upon the truth held within the both of you all this time.

The bite mark on his leg. The trap that had been laid by the witchers that had caught the hock of the wolf. The strange disappearance of the monster as you’d sheltered a stranger in your home. His disgust with the scent of wolfsbane on your palms. The interest in his stare that offered a silent watchfulness, an unwavering focus like the lurking gaze of a predator from the woods. The glint of his golden yellow eyes is the same color as the stare above you.

“The wolf won’t hurt you, Rotty. I promise. I’ll protect you.”

“Konig.” You whisper in awed realization, watching as the monster opens its jaws to descend ever so slowly towards your throat.

He left you. He was trying to protect you. Protect you from himself.

He is the wolf from your nightmares.

and somehow, the man from your daydreams.

“It was you.” You whisper, tears still streaming but somehow not afraid, breath released in a sigh as you grow limp under the grasp of the beast above you. “It was always you.”

The pale light of the moon falls upon your open, tender gaze even as warm breath huffs across your skin in the promise of a killing bite.

The words of Laswell, the words you didn’t understand, now unwind themselves in the prophecy of which she spoke.

Laswell holds you, hands clinging tightly to the cape she once bestowed upon you as a gift of her affection towards you.

“There’s one more thing.” She tells you, and in her voice you hear prophecy, the magic she keeps in careful concealment. It winds around you like brambles, a protection for the soul inside you striving towards something you’ve desired all your life, something which remains so close and just out of reach, residing in the woods you’ve always called home.

Laswell gathers you to her, and whispers words in your ear you don’t yet understand, holds you tight like she would a daughter.

“The only way to stop a werewolf.” She speaks to you in a voice that speaks of prophecy. “Is for his name to be echoed thrice by the voice of his beloved.”

Teeth scrape against the flesh of your throat. Your arms raise around the neck of the monster, embracing him so you nuzzle your cheek into his pelt. You drink in the scent of him- familiar, earthy, a touch of smoke from the warm billow of your hearth, and within it the breath of something forever wild and untamed. There, you whisper the final sacrament to this story of yours in a beloved sigh of complete and total surrender.

“Konig.”

The werewolf above you freezes, teeth closed gently around your neck, not yet drawing blood.

You close your eyes, turning your head ever go gently, and press a kiss into his fur.

“Let’s walk out of these woods, together.”

It’s still for a moment, the whisper of the wind through the trees hushing unspoken words onto both your forms, the forest waiting, holding its breath for what comes next.

The creature above you makes a sound, something caught between a growl and a voice, and in it you hear the name he has bestowed upon you.

“Rotty.”

His fangs relinquish their hold on you, drawing back at the same time the paw that pins you withdraws, his form shifting, changing. You watch in awe as the monster before you transforms, fur growing inwards, the bulk of his massive frame folding. His animalistic features retreat from snarling fangs and outstretched claws to human features, shoulders shortening, limbs thinning, until at last the form of a man appears underneath. Konig bows under the transformation, body wracking with a deep shudder as his bones fold themselves back into place, skin knitting so his wolfish features disappear.

At last the pale flesh of his form is revealed, and Konig gasps hoarsely as he falls forward, arms buckling under him so he flops onto your form.

You reach out and catch him, feel the air rush from your lungs as the exhausted weight of him presses down on you. Your hands wrap around his neck, shoulders, and you bury your nose into the crook of his neck, whispering comforts there as he shivers.

“Rotty.” He manages again, voice now absent of the feral growl. Instead he whimpers, broken and desperately relieved, forcing strength into his arms so they wrap around you in turn. “Rotty...I-”

“Shh.” You hush him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “You’re safe. I’m alright. We’re okay.”

Konig shivers again, hiccups a small, sorrowful sound into your shoulder.

“I tried to save you.” He rasps. “I knew if I stayed that-”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “I...nearly killed you.”

“I know.” You tell him, a hand reaching up to pet at his hair. “I saved you.”

Konig nuzzles deeper into you with a trembling sigh, hauls you closer to him. “How did you...?”

You smile, staring up at the moon. For the first time, you notice that the red haze of smoke from the village is dissipating, leaving behind a gentle, pale yellow that bathes you both.

“A friend.” You confess. “Someone who had faith in me.”

Konig is still for a moment, before he at last rises off you, bracing himself on his elbows so her hovers just above your face. Without his hood, you see his features for the first time. A strong jaw, a tickling of a beard, a slightly crooked nose, long dark hair that drapes across his forehead and neck, and...

You blink, fingers coming up to trace the corner of his mouth.

Sharp canines that speak of something other than human.

“What sharp teeth you have.” You murmur softly, expression softening, and you watch in awe as Konig’s face pinches, tears welling into his eyes.

“Rotty.” He sobs, ducking his head. “Rotty, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean, I never-”

You watch him, transfixed by this new myriad of expressions you’re witnessing for the first time, lips parting in wonder. The words inside you escape before you can stop them.

“You’re so...beautiful.” You whisper, watching as his eyes shoot up towards yours, shocked. You can only offer a tender smile, a sweet and beloved reassurance as your hand traces his cheek in a loving gesture.

“I love you.” He tells you, barely audible, as if he’s almost scared to say it, scared of his devotion towards you. It clenches something tight in your chest, and you feel your own expression finally crumple, warmth flooding your eyes once more.

You stretch up, press your lips to him in a chaste contact, and whisper there the words you’ve wished so desperately to say this entire time.

“I love you, Konig.”

He shudders at the sound of your breathless confession, and gently grazes his lips against yours, as if he can taste the words there.

“Beloved Rotty.” He murmurs, and bends at last to kiss you.

You press into him eagerly, head falling back onto the earth as he chases you, mouth slanting against yours with a sigh. Your hand raises to tangle in his hair, and it solicits a groan from him, deep and cavernous like the wolf he is inside. You feel his teeth bite at your lip, fangs scraping across the plush skin. You shudder at the pure possessiveness with which he kisses you, as if to remind himself that you’re whole, his, only ever his. His Rotty. His beloved. His mate.

You whisper his name once more and allow him to devour you whole.

---

The sun rises gently over the village.

In Laswell’s quiet cottage, pale morning light seeps through the windows, and washes over her in a soft, dove gray that catches the color of her eyes. She gathers her things, collects her belongings and prepares herself for the long journey that is about to come.

In her hands, a letter.

Dearest Kate,

I’m safe, but you probably knew that when you saw this.

I’ve decided to leave the village, and my guess is so have you.

I have someone to go with, but I think you knew that too.

We’ll be fine, don’t you worry. I’ll find a way to visit soon.

Just not yet. I hope you can explain to Price and the others

what has happened. I hope they’ll understand, and that

someday I can see them again. Give them my love.

Tell them I understand why they did what they did in

hiding the truth from me. I know they were trying to

protect me, and I don’t hold it against them.

I have someone to protect as well, and he’s going to

protect me too. We have each other, and I’m more

happy than I can write here.

You had faith in me. You always have. You knew

that only I could break this curse, and even at the

risk of my own life you believed in me. Without you,

I would have lived a life of heartache. Thank you for

saving me from that. Know that I will find a way to

see you soon, and until then I hope you are happy,

and well, and safe.

With all my love,

Red...and Konig

Laswell stares down at the paper with sad, fond eyes. There’s a bitter sweetness to her smile, a happiness that is stifled only by your absence. She comforts herself with your words, with your promise to come see her once more. Yet she’s glad to watch you leave, as if observing a fledgling lark take flight for the first time and ascend far above the trees, into the blue sky. There will be a time when you come back to nest into her arms, and she trusts for the day to come soon when she can embrace you as the daughter you are to her.

A knock on the door. She turns, taking in the weary, grieving form of Price as he stands on the threshold.

“It’s time.” He tells her, voice mournful, muted. Laswell tilts her head, smiles at him before gesturing to him inside. He stands at her side, brow bunched in dismay, and she turns to him, cups his face in fond familiarity.

“John.” She murmurs. “I have something to tell you.”

---

The wind rushes past your ears as you fly across the earth, hands gripped tight to the beast that moves under you. Fur tangles between your fingers, and you use it to brace yourself with every powerful roll of shoulders that carries you forward. Warm, panting breaths huff into the growing winter air, steam billowing from the creature’s mouth as his paws thunder against the ground. You cling to him as he runs, the crimson of your cape streaming out behind you like a bloodstain.

You look to the sky, where the sun rises above a clear, pale blue, and the moon nestles softly beyond the horizon- waiting, silent, until it rises once more. The vast expanse of azure you were never able to fully see extends endlessly out before you as you’re carried far above the tree line, into the mountains, and away from the village you once called home. Instead, your eyes take in the never-ending forest below, and gaze further up into the misty slopes wherein you will plant new roots for you and him.

The beast under you slowly trots to a halt amidst a fern lined grove, glances at you over a single massive shoulder with golden eyes. You stroke through his dark fur before sliding from his back onto solid earth once more. As you do, the wolf rises and shifts, bones shifting inwards until Konig is at last revealed with a soft sigh. He stands bare beside you as you toe the edge of the cliff to take in the view below. The smoke from the village can no longer be seen, well behind you now as you travel towards the future. The changing colors of fall have begun to fade, and you shiver at the thought of the long winter that’s yet to come.

Konig loops his arms around you from behind, drags you to him so the warmth of his frame bleeds into you. You go easily, lifting a hand to gently grasp at his arm as you two stare down at the valley below.

“We’ve a long ways to go, Schatz.” He murmurs, propping his head above yours and swaying gently on his feet. “We’ll need to find a den before winter comes.”

You hum a low note in response and allow yourself to imagine it- a new home. One with furs lining the floors, plush beneath your bare feet. A fire blazes brightly, smoke lifting upwards with the scent of cedar. You feel the warmth of it cast golden across your bare form as you pad over towards the nest you share with him. Both of you, strange, mysterious creatures of the woods- once alone, now together. He embraces you, gathers you to him and descends towards your waiting lips. You taste devotions on his tongue.

“My mate.” He purrs from behind you, as if imagining the same vision. He leans down to nuzzle at your cheek affectionately, drinking in your scent with a pleased, rumbling growl. You crane your head to offer him a kiss and feel the smile there as you do.

“My wolf.” You murmur in return with a breathy sigh, cup his face in tender affection. A sound rumbles low in his chest- possessive, protective, and utterly devoted.

He tilts his head, noses along the bruise he left on your neck with a displeased little whine.

“It’s fading.” He remarks quietly, noting the waning colors. “My claiming bite.”

You arch your neck so he has better access to it, sighing languidly in response. “Is that what makes me yours?” You ask softly.

Konig pauses then, and soon you find yourself facing him, caught in his arms as your hands brace themselves on his bare chest.

“No.” He tells you, staring down with his beautiful eyes, the color of a damp, green forest. “I can bite you, claim you forever, but you’re mine no matter what, Rotty.”

You offer him a smile of pure adoration, eyes full of a love so deep not even the endless forest has room to contain it. You stroke his face, your beloved wolf, and whisper the words that are your destiny.

“Then claim me.” You tell him softly, feeling prophecy unfurl once more. “Forever. I’m yours.”

Gold swallows green in his gaze, eyes glimmering brightly as he gathers you to him once more. You sigh into his lips as his arms close around you, unspooling your crimson cape so it sprawls on the earth below.

“Beloved Rotty.” He murmurs with the low intonation of a wild thing now tamed by your hands. “My Rotty.”

He lays you down amongst the ferns, presses his teeth to the soft flesh of your neck...

and you allow red to seal your fate.

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