#Never drawn a wolf before O-o

[smileysuh]

Blood Moon

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “You know,” Cheol’s lips are feverish against your skin, and he kisses from your collarbone to your breasts, his hot breath driving you wild, “in some cultures, the blood moon is a sign that the moon needs to be worshiped.” His hand moves between your legs, deft fingers rubbing you through your panties while he lets out another groan of need. “Werewolves worship the moon,” he continues. “It’s what makes us who we are, but after I met you…” his other hand tears the front of your dress down, and his teeth graze by your nipple, “let’s just say, you’re all that matters to me now. And I’m going to worship you as if you were the moon.”

tw/cw. blood/claim biting, a/b/o, alpha cheol, big dick cheol, pussy worship, pussy eating, unprotected sex, fingering, squirting, exhibitionism, sex where his pack can hear it, praise, multiple positions, breeding kink, size kink, overstim, slight dacryphilia, sex on a car & the ground & under the blood moon, wet pussy kink, knotting, rough sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (his) alpha.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5k

🍭 aus.a/b/o, alpha!Cheol, omega!reader, jealousy, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. when I tell you I need this man to ruin me

Seungcheol’s never been the type of alpha to question his subordinates, but on blood moons, his control goes out the window. When he’d announced during the formation of his pack that he’d be taking on two lesser alphas, and their preexisting betas, some elder wolves had called him crazy. They’d said it was just a matter of time till Jihoon or Soonyoung made an act to overthrow him, but in the eight years since then, Seungcheol’s never truly had any cause to suspect insurrection of any sort.

However this year, things are different. This year, he’s made another risky move that’s been questioned by wolves in and outside of his own pack. 

This year, he’d fallen for a human, someone outside any of the strong wolf bloodlines, and he’d taken you as his own. His bite had transformed you into the beta you are now, and he can tell, as you approach him with eyes following your every move, that some of his pack members are still not very happy about it.

Soonyoung, in particular, makes no move to hide his gaze. He looks you up and down, and Seungcheol can even see a flash of his tongue darting out to wet his lips, a hungry spark in his eyes. 

“You look upset,” you note, finally making it to your alpha’s side by the bonfire, its flames licking the night sky and casting pretty shadows across your features.

“Is it that obvious?” Seungcheol groans, wrapping an arm around your body while he adjusts the red solo cup in his hand. 

“You always wear your heart on your sleeve, Cheol,” you muse, leaning closer to him. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

The alpha lets out a sigh, giving one last warning look to Soonyoung before his gaze dips to focus on you. “Can I tell you something about blood moons?”

“Please,” you nod. “I'd love to hear more, especially from you.”

He’s always enjoyed how eager you are to learn about the ways of the wolves, it’s one of the things that had drawn him to you, and he loves teaching you his culture even more.

“Ancient peoples believed the blood moon was a sort of omen, something that predicted the death or overthrow of a king.”

“I see,” you smile, leaning up to press your lips to the underside of his jaw. “You’re worried someone might have a stupid idea tonight about taking you on as alpha.”

“Others thought that blood moons were a time to explore your dark side. To dive deeper into hidden emotions like rage,” he explains further. “I think we both know that some members of my pack are still harbouring a grudge against me for my actions this year.”

“They’ll get over it,” you assure him. “And if they don’t, what’s anyone going to do about it? No one here can best you, they’d be stupid to try.”

Seungcheol knows that. Aside from being a force to be reckoned with all by himself, Seungcheol’s inner circle includes Mingyu, one of the biggest wolves he’s ever seen. Even if Soonyoung was to pick a fight with Seungcheol, backed up by Minghao, Dino and Jun, they’d never be able to overtake both him and Mingyu. 

Regardless of these facts, your calming words do nothing on his restless mind. Blood moons have always been a time of heightened emotional energy, especially for the wolves so connected to the lunar force. 

Instead of saying anything else, Cheol simply pulls you closer, hoping that your presence in his arms is enough to stop him from doing anything rash.

When you realize Seungcheol’s cup is empty, you break away from his side, giving the alpha a kiss that lingers before you head off to get more liquor. You’ve been feeling how tense your mate is all night, and you hope that another drink might soothe what you’re unable to.

As you walk up the beach, you notice the sound of someone following you. While you’re still getting used to heightened wolf senses, you’re conscious enough to note that the footfalls are lighter than your lumbering alphas, and you don’t dare look behind you to check who your new shadow is. 

You’re safe enough on this beach with the pack around you, and despite Seungcheol’s obvious agitation and paranoia, you’d meant it when you’d told him people would be stupid to try anything tonight.

When you reach the camping table housing all the booze, you move calmly, reaching for the aged bottle of bourbon that Seungcheol loves. Your shadow takes the opportunity to make himself known, stepping next to you and reaching for his own can of beer. 

“You look good tonight,” Soonyoung says, opening his drink and turning to look at you.

“Thank you,” you smile, trying to be respectful to the alpha. “I know it’s a blood moon, but it still felt fitting to wear white, besides, Seungcheol loves this dress.”

“I can see why.” Soonyoung’s eyes move down and then back up, focusing on your breasts for a few seconds while you continue to prepare your mate’s bourbon. “You know, when we heard Cheol had found himself a human to dote on, lots of us wondered why he didn’t just go for some juicy omega. But, seeing you tonight, I can see you might be even tastier than the other girls that used to fawn over him.”

You take a breath, screwing the lid back onto the bottle of bourbon before setting it down and turning to look at Soonyoung. You know he’s trying to get a rise out of you, but you won’t give him that satisfaction.

“Do you have something else to say to me, Soonyoung?” 

“Just that…” he licks his lips, leaning closer to you. “I know you don’t come from our world, so it’s not like you had your pick of alphas, and I just figured, maybe there might be a better match for you than him.”

“A better match,” you repeat his words. “Like you?”

Soonyoung shrugs, flashing a grin. “You’d never know till you give me a chance to prove myself.”

“All things considered, I think you’re pretty lucky I was born human.”

“Really?” His grin widens. “And why’s that, gorgeous?”

“Because if I was an omega, I’d run off and tell Cheol about this and he’d kill you tonight.” 

The smirk drops from Soonyoung’s face, and he stares you down. “Cheol wouldn’t choose you over me.”

You sigh. “If you’re willing to bet your life on that, I can always go ask him right now.” Soonyoung stays quiet and you nod. “That’s what I thought. I’d say it’s been nice talking with you, but we both know that would be a lie. Have a good night, Soonyoung.”

You pick up your drink and walk away. 

This time, the alpha doesn’t follow.

No matter how safe you feel amongst the pack, it’s still something of a relief when you make it to Seungcheol’s side again. 

He looks at you with concern, taking the cup from your hands so he can wrap a protective arm around your body, pulling you tight to his chest. “You were gone a while,” he notes. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod. It’s a small white lie, but you truly believe Seungcheol would tear Soonyoung in two if you tell him what just took place, so you avoid disclosure. What Seungcheol doesn’t know can’t hurt him… or Soonyoung. “I was just thinking…” you continue, tracing a finger up the front of your mate’s black v-neck, “I know I’m not generally someone who’s too fond of public displays of aggression and ownership, but… if there was ever a night to prove I belong to you, it would be tonight.”

Seungcheol blinks at you, swallowing thickly while he considers your proposition. His gaze dips to where your breasts are pressed against his chest, and you can feel his cock beginning to harden where it’s trapped in his pants between your bodies. “So you want me to take you right here?” he asks. “On the beach? In front of everyone?”

“Cheol,” you laugh, pressing a kiss to his jaw, “that’s a bit much. I was thinking… we could go to the parking lot where your car is. It’s close enough that people will be able to hear, but far enough that I’d still be comfortable. After all, if I’m yours and only yours, my body should be for your eyes only.”

“I’m not sure where this came from,” Seungcheol admits. “But you know I could never say no to you. Let’s get out of here, princess, because if we don’t, I am going to fuck you on this beach where everyone can see.”

You tug out of his embrace, flashing him a mischievous smile. “Okay alpha, then you better chase me.”

You turn on your heel in the sand, bolting towards the grassy parking lot while other members of his pack watch you. It feels like freedom to be running through the cool night air under the blood moon, and you can hear your alpha’s footfalls as he chases you.

He could catch you in a second, you both know that, but he’s purposefully moving slower than you, letting you be exhilarated by the idea of a chase. You know it turns him on as much as you, and you giggle to yourself at the naughtiness of it all.

Cheol has always brought out your wild side, even when you were human, and now, you get to revel in the primal attraction, the push and pull with the alpha that’s shown you the world, and now, the blood moon. 

You marvel at the new strength of your body, the way you can make it to the parking lot, which is a couple hundred meters down the beach, without even being very winded. 

The moment you reach the vehicle, Seungcheol’s hot body is pressing against your back, boxing you against his large, black truck with both hands on either side of you. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” he groans, rubbing his cock against your ass.

“I could say the same about you,” you gasp, turning so you can face him. “My big sexy alpha-”

He’s kissing you the moment the words leave you, and you tangle your hands through his dark hair tugging him closer while his mouth works against your own. He tastes like bourbon, and something about it turns you on even more. Your mate’s teeth drag across your lower lip and you let out a groan, lifting your thigh to wrap around his waist.

“Cheol,” you whimper, taking a breather as he moves his mouth to your neck, finding your sweet spot and making you moan again. “I need you-”

With a growl, the alpha picks you up, fingers digging into your ass as he moves around to the back of his truck. You begin to kiss his throat as he gets the front panel open, and then he hoists you up to rest you on it.

His hands find your thighs, pushing your white dress up and grabbing at your flesh. 

“Just fuck me-” you plead, knowing your panties are already soaked. Cheol just does things to you, and you wish he’d do more. 

“You know,” Cheol’s lips are feverish against your skin, and he kisses from your collar bone to your breasts, his hot breath driving you wild, “in some cultures, the blood moon is a sign that the moon needs to be worshiped.” 

His hand moves between your legs, deft fingers rubbing you through your panties while he lets out another groan of need.

 “Werewolves worship the moon,” he continues. “It’s what makes us who we are, but after I met you…” his other hand tears the front of your dress down, and his teeth graze by your nipple, “let’s just say, you’re all that matters to me now. And I’m going to worship you as if you were the moon.”

“Fuck, alpha-” you whimper, throwing your head back while he begins to suck on your nipple, applying more pressure to your clit with the hands you adore so much. 

“That’s right,” Cheol growls, “I’m your alpha. Your only alpha. And I’m going to take care of you, like you deserve.”

“Please, I need it-”

“You need it?” His hair brushes by your chest, and then he pulls back just enough to look up at you, pushing your panties to the side so two of his large fingers can slip into your soaked core. “Tell me what you need, princess, alpha will give it to you.”

“You know what I need,” you whine.

“I want to hear you say it.” 

You let out a sound of frustration, tangling your hands in Seungcheol’s hair. Then you push his head down, and your mate begins to laugh at you, his fingers picking up speed as they work to open your core. 

“I said use your words,” he tuts, “not push me around.”

“I need you to worship me,” you tell him, “the way only you can.”

“That’s more like it,” he hums, satisfied as his hot kisses begin to move down your body. 

He pulls his fingers out of your pussy and you whine loudly at the loss, but he needs his hands to push your dress up. He uses his teeth to tear your panties down, and you whimper at the feeling of him, watching him while unmatched lust burns through you.

“I’m going to keep these for myself,” he says, pocketing your panties before he spreads your legs, forcing you to fall backward against the bed of his truck, your elbows cushioning your fall and propping you up. 

“Alpha,” you moan, a shiver running through you when he begins to kiss your thigh, working closer and closer to where you need him most. 

“Fuck,” he groans, placing a kiss on your pussy that has you squealing with delight. “I love the sounds you make.” Your mate looks up at you with dark, dilated pupils. “You really do want everyone to hear this, don’t you, princess?” 

The thought excites you more than it ever has before, and Seungcheol grins while watching you. “That’s what I thought. Who’s my dirty girl?”

“I am,” you gasp when his thumb comes up to play with your clit.

“You’re dripping, princess,” Cheol notes. “Just the way I like it.” 

He’s forcing his head between your thighs a moment later, tongue lapping the length of your pussy and making you cry out into the night air. Your hands fly down to grab onto his hair, and your alpha growls, the vibration running through your clit and causing you to pant while his tongue invades your wet hole.

“Oh my god-” you whimper, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get more-

His palm lands on your lower abdomen and he forces you down. It’s crazy how much strength he has in just one hand, and you find yourself completely pinned to the bed of his truck while he eats you out like he’s a starving man.

The sounds coming from between your legs are absolutely lewd, not only can you hear your soaked pussy and his wet tongue, but he’s moaning loudly, thoroughly enjoying working you up the way only he knows how. 

“Alpha,” you whimper desperately, already aching from how close you are. 

Cheol lets out another groan, the vibrations making your legs twitch as you teeter on the edge of pleasure. “I’m gonna cum-” you gasp, tightening your grip on his hair so he can’t pull away. 

But Seungcheol has no intention of pulling away. In fact, he presses his face even deeper into your pussy, lapping at you and licking- then his lips suction around your clit and you’re a complete gonner.

A scream leaves your mouth, your eyes clenching shut as your orgasm overtakes you. 

Seungcheol has given you great orgasms before, mind altering, earth shattering orgasms- but nothing has ever been like this. Your brain goes completely blank as the feeling of absolute ecstasy overwhelms your body, bringing tears to your eyes while he continues to worship your core with an expert tongue.

“Alpha,” you whimper, overstimulated by his mouth alone.

Cheol finally lets up, pulling away from your pussy and taking a deep breath. You can feel him exhale against you, and it causes you to twitch from stimulation. You go to close your legs while Seungcheol straightens and looks down at you, but his hands are quick to pry them open.

“You think I’m done with you?” he laughs. “Nice try princess, but I’m not anywhere near being done yet.”

His thumb finds your clit again and your whole body jolts at the contact, your thighs threatening to close-

Seungcheol pushes them open again, letting out a growl. “You better keep these legs wide for me, princess, and take what your alpha is giving you.”

You mewl in response, whimpering when two of his digits enter your core again. “I had you on my tongue, and now I’m going to give you my fingers before I split you open with my cock. How does that sound?”

“Like heaven,” you whisper, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his large fingers moving in and out of you slowly.

“That’s my girl,” Seungcheol grins, eyes focusing between your legs. “You have no fucking clue how sexy you are.”

You groan at the praise. You’ve always loved how Seungcheol takes his time with you, verbalizing his attraction and always making you feel like the only girl in the entire universe. 

When you’d been a part of the human world, you’d heard stories about alpha wolves with harems of girls, omegas, that are even shared amongst packs. Cheol had changed your entire perception of his kind, and he’d even talked you into joining him, although… it hadn’t taken much persuasion on his part.

“Look at you, clenching on my fingers when I talk nice,” Cheol lets out a laugh. “You really are my little praise princess, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes, alpha,” you nod, moaning as his fingers pick up their pace inside of you.

“I want to watch you cum again,” he tells you. “I love watching you lose control.”

“Then make me cum,” you whisper. “Make me scream.”

Seungcheol grins. “You’ve got it, princess.”

He strokes his fingers up, finding the spot inside of you that always makes your toes curl. His other hand finds your lower abdomen, pinning you down, and you know exactly what he’s going to do next.

Your alpha mate has always had a thing for making your pussy soaked, and he’s an expert at getting you there with his fingers. No man has ever made you squirt like Seungcheol has, and no man ever will again.

“Alpha,” you whimper as his digits begin to apply more pressure to your g-spot, and you grab at the strong forearm of the hand pinned to your abdomen, needing an anchor, any anchor, so you don’t simply fly away off the bed of his truck to float through cloud nine.

“That’s it,” Seungcheol groans. “Listen to how wet your pretty pussy is.”

You love how you can hear yourself, love how you can already feel wetness between your legs as Seungcheol’s fingers work their magic. You’re a moaning mess now, and when your mate commands, “rub your clit for me,” you can hardly refuse.

Your shaky digits find your most sensitive spot, and now you can feel even more fluid gushing out of you as pleasure erupts through your form.

“Just like that, pretty girl,” Seungcheol praises you. “You’re always so fucking good for me.”

Squirting isn’t like regular orgasms, it’s a slow pressure in the pit of your stomach that builds as his fingers continue roughly inside of you, until you’re twitching and gasping and crying out. You can’t carry on with your clit, all you can do is grab at Cheol’s forearm again, taking what he gives you until he’s satisfied. 

“Look at you fucking cum,” Seungcheol groans, watching you writhe on the bed of his truck while you gush around his fingers. 

You’re crying again, and you can feel wet hot tears rolling down your cheeks, but you’d never tell him to stop. Not when you know you’ll be rewarded as soon as he’s had enough, as soon as he loses his own control and has to fuck you. 

“Shit, princess,” Seungcheol growls, pulling his digits out of your core. “My turn.”

He grabs you with both hands, and you can feel your wetness on your skin from the fingers that had just been inside of you. In one rough motion, he pulls you off the bed of the truck, and a small scream or surprise escapes you.

Your legs feel like jelly, but your mate is quick to turn you around, forcing your upper body to lay over the front panel and bed of his truck. You hear the clink of his belt as he undoes it with expert fingers, and then he lifts up your dress. In one solid motion, he slides his whole cock into you, taking your breath away as you gasp and claw your hands against the cool metal truck frame.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Seungcheol groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds still for a moment, letting you feel his massive cock stretching you out. “So wet and perfect.”

At this point, you can hardly think, let alone respond with words. The most you can do is moan loudly, pushing your ass back in an attempt to get him deeper-

“That’s right, princess,” the alpha laughs. “You’re so desperate to be fucked, aren’t you?”

“Yes, alpha-” 

“Then I guess I better deliver.” He pulls almost all the way out of you before slamming back in, his hips making an audible slap against your ass while your whine of pleasure rings through the night.

“Alpha?” you whimper, a dirty, sinful, wonderful thought popping into your mind.

“Yes, princess?” He ruts into you harder, finding a brutal pace that has the entire truck rocking with each powerful thrust.

“Do you-” you choke back a moan, “Do you think… if you bred me during a blood moon… do you think it would make our pups strong alphas like you?”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans loudly, fingers digging harder against your hips as his motions get even wilder. “You want me to breed you, princess?”

“God, yes!” you cry, pussy fluttering at the mere idea of it.

Your mate lets out a growl, fucking you so hard and deep you can feel him everywhere. He’s all consuming. You’ve practically forgotten that he’s fucking you on a car with his pack so closeby- all that matters is him right now, and what he can give you. 

“Want me to fill you up until you’re practically bursting with my cum?”

“Yes, alpha-” you moan desperately, closing your eyes as you press your cheek against the cool metal truck bed. 

“Want me to knot you? Spread you open so you’re ruined for anyone else?” 

You’re already ruined for anyone else, and you both know it. Although you’ve been with Seungcheol for five months, you’ve never helped him through a rut, as having babies has never been something either of you particularly wanted-

But now? Now you want him, you want his knot. You want it so desperately you feel the need from the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes.

“God, yes, please- make me yours forever,” you cry. “I’m yours alpha, forever yours-”

“Fuck, princess,” Seungcheol groans. “I need to see you.” 

He pulls his cock from your aching core and you whine at the loss, only for him to grab you and throw you on the grassy ground next to the truck. He’s never been this rough before, and you’re slightly winded, but then he’s on top of you, sliding back into your core while his lips find yours. 

You moan into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his strong shoulders and your legs around his hips, anchoring him to you while he fucks you into the ground. 

You don’t care about the grass, or even the bits of sand you feel against your back. You’re so completely focused on Cheol-

“I’m going to mark you again,” Seungcheol tells you, voice low as his lips move to your neck. 

The first time he’d bitten you, claimed you as his own, and turned you into a wolf like him, it had been a euphoric sensation, and your toes curl in anticipation. He’d marked you on your left side, but tonight, he goes for the right, and you realize he’s intent on there being no mistake who you belong to. That you’re taken. 

“Fuck, you want me to bite you, don’t you, princess?” He groans, breath hot against your skin. “You’re squeezing me like a fucking vice-”

“Alpha, please-” you whimper, needing him more than you’ve ever needed anything in your entire life. 

You don’t have to beg again, because you feel his sharp teeth grazing your throat a moment later. You hold tightly onto his broad shoulders, bracing yourself for the pleasured pain that shoots through you as he digs his fangs into your flesh.

“Alpha-” you cry desperately, digging your fingers into his shoulders as he bites deeper, ensuring a scar that will last a lifetime.

You can feel the base of his cock swelling inside of you, and the feeling is foreign, wonderful. It’s a new kind of stretch, and it leaves you gasping, opening your eyes to look up at the blood moon. 

This is right. You know that. 

“Alpha, I’m gonna cum,” you whisper, holding him tightly as your orgasm builds and builds, spurred on by the teeth still digging into your skin. It’s a perfect kind of pain, a pain only he can provide, and it leaves you breathless as you tip over the edge.

Your aching core clamps down on Seungcheol’s length, and you cry out at the feeling of his knot now fully grown inside of you-

Your mate lets out a growl, and a moment later you feel his cum coating your insides, filling you up like you’ve never been filled before. He can hardly thrust anymore, his knot too big to move inside of you, but you don’t mind. You think if he fucks you any longer, you might truly pass out from the pleasure. 

Seungcheol releases your throat, pulling back to look down at you. You can see your blood on his mouth. When you’d been human, blood had been something scary, something dirty, but now that you’re a wolf, it’s inviting, and you wrap your hand around the back of his neck, pulling his lips to your own. 

He groans, tongue dancing across yours while the metallic taste of your own blood washes over you. 

With him buried balls deep in your pussy in the grass next to his truck with his pack nearby, his knot keeping him locked inside of you, and the taste of your own blood on his tongue- you think this might be the dirtiest, most sinful thing the two of you have ever done, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

There’s no shame, only acceptance, and an understanding in the back of your mind that you’ve reached your most primal peak. That this is how things are meant to be for wolves, and you are now truly a part of that.

You feel certain that after tonight, no one will ever question you as his mate again, and the thought fills you with an indescribable warmth. 

“Cheol,” you whisper, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. “I love you, so, so much.”

Your mate laughs softly, pushing some hair out of your face while he looks down at you. “I love you too, princess. More than you can even imagine.”

The two of you catch your breath, holding each other close like the young lovers you are, and you slowly feel the knot inside of you begin to die down. 

When Cheol is finally able to pull out of you, he sits up on his knees, tucking his cock back into his jeans before running a hand through his hair.

He’s silhouetted against the night sky and the moon, and you think it’s possible he’s never been sexier.

“As much as I want to keep these panties,” he says, pulling them out of his pocket, “I also want to make sure my cum stays in you longer. You don’t mind if I put these back on you, do you, princess?”

You shake your head, smiling at him as he gently lifts your foot, then the other, pressing a kiss to your calf as he slides your panties back on.

“I bit you pretty bad,” your mate confesses. “Let me get you up, get you seated on my truck, and I’ll grab the first aid kid to bandage your neck.”

There’s not one word of protest from you, and you marvel at how easy it is for him to lift you off the ground, setting you on the front panel. 

“Wait here,” he says softly, giving you one last chaste kiss before he heads to fumble in the front cabin. He comes back a minute later holding a red first aid kit, and you watch him in a daze as he gets out the gauze and bandages. 

“You might be a beta,” Seungcheol tells you, as he begins to gently wrap your neck, “but you have the sex drive of an omega, don’t you, princess?”

“Only for you, alpha.” You flash him a dopey smile, completely brain-dead after the best sex of your life. “Only for you.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Alpha cheol has me in an entire brain rot- I'll never be the same after him - Mingyu now has a part in this series too, read more about the Blood Moon pack here

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. Seungcheol releases your hip, and he reaches down to grab your torso, wrapping one hand around your breast as he hauls you to your knees, your back now pressed firmly to his chest. “Look around,” he says in your ear, and you force your lids open to gaze out at the dark treeline. You notice multiple eyes staring back at you, lit by the reflection of the moon. You can’t see which members of the pack are watching, can’t make out any faces, but your pussy throbs knowing they’re all focused on you. Seungcheol’s free hand slips down to rub at your clit, and you whimper, wiggling in his grasp. He holds you tighter against his strong torso, licking your throat. “I can’t believe how much this turns you on. Filthy little princess.” 

cw/ tw. Exhibitionism, fucking outside in a field, voyeurism, his pack watching you get fucked, blow job, deep throating, hand job, unprotected sex, dirty talk, overstim, multiple positions/orgasms, praise, semi public nudity, possessive cheol, size kink, big dick cheol, breast worship, sex marks, choking/neck grabbing, rough sex, primal doggy style, hair pulling, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (his) alpha.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k I teaser wc. 300

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!reader

bonus

Seungcheol wakes up as the sunlight begins to creep through the blinds and illuminate your room. He lets out a groan, instinctively reaching out to grab you, pulling you tight to his body. 

“Morning, alpha,” you whisper, fingers threading through his hair and massaging his scalp.

He’d woken up with a stiffie, and the feeling of your hands has him releasing a moan of pleasure, his cock throbbing in the confines of his breifs. 

He takes a deep breath, wanting to be engulfed by you, by your scent-

And that’s when he notices a sweeter note to your usual smell. 

His eyes open, and he blinks at you, the fogginess of sleep slowly dissipating as he gets his bearings. 

“What?” you question, having picked up on the shift in his energy. “Is something wrong?”

“You just-” he swallows thickly, “you smell so good.” 

“Really?”

“More than normal,” he confirms, sitting up suddenly to look at you. His eyes take in your body, and he moves the covers to get a better view of your form. His fingers reach out to trace your skin, smoothing over your collarbone and down to your breasts. When he reaches your belly button, he circles it, and you let out a giggle. 

Seungcheol can’t help but smile, gaze flashing to meet yours. He has his suspicions about why your scent may have changed, he’s heard stories about this, but he’s never experienced it for himself-

“I think the blood moon blessed us, princess.”

“Hmm?” Your brows furrow in confusion, and you reach down to guide his hand lower-

His fingers find your core through your panties, and he lets out a groan at how wet you already are. As he moves lower, shimmying down the bed to get between your thighs, the smell grows, confirming his suspicions. 

“You’re pregnant,” he says softly. “I can smell it on you.”

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[racheyace]

Mayday

G/t July day 10 – Alien

TW: some swearing, plane crash

Approx 2.3k words

Flying anywhere near Bermuda was never fun, the weather was so often unpredictable and even well-seasoned pilots with meticulous forward planning would still often get caught in the islands fluke storms. Raiden was currently navigating one of those such storms.

He was a solo pilot, and he preferred it that way, always seeing himself as a sort of lone wolf and taking carrier jobs where he could, this trip to Bermuda had been one of those such trips.

A devastating illness had been taking over the island recently and Raiden had been asked if he could deliver some much-needed supplies to the island.

The trip from Miami to Bermuda had been deceptively calm and he’d unloaded his cargo quickly and taken off again just as fast, headed back to Miami. Realistically he would be navigating dead East for most of the trip, skirting the dreaded Bermuda Triangle all together before then heading southeast to Miami.

Raiden himself never believed in the superstitions around the Bermuda Triangle, it’s been said that many pilots and sailors had gone into the triangle, never to return with no trace left behind. Raiden had always put that down to the chaotic weather systems within the triangle and not some supernatural force.

Even still, it was wise to keep away from the Triangle as much as possible.

Unfortunately for Raiden a rogue storm had seemingly come out of nowhere causing his navigation system to go haywire and steering him completely off course.

“Shit!” He flinched as some lightning struck his plane, causing the lights in the cabin to flicker.

Raiden glanced at the radar for the hundredth time, it blinked rather clearly, assuring him that the weather was clear and safe for flight.

“What the actual fuck is going on?” He growled at the radar, a supposedly reliable piece of equipment, capable of detecting storms nearby and navigating around them, not this time so it seemed. The sky had been clear when he’d left Bermuda an hour ago and then in an instant a bitch of a storm had formed around him.

Another bolt of lightning struck his plane this time proving more damaging, looking at the computer in front of him, the fuel tank light was blinking indicating that the lightning had damaged it.

“Mayday Mayday this is Saker 284 requiring immediate assistance!” Raiden shouted through the communication system, normally he’d have gone straight through to the Miami coms tower but he’d expanded the broadcast, hoping someone closer might be able to help.

Nothing but static. And he was losing altitude fast.

Archie’s day had started like any other, picking up his usual Mocha Latte from his favourite little café conveniently located just outside the airport before heading to work.

“Morning Arch, didn’t happen to get me one of those did ya? Nightshifts a fucking killer.” Kelsey groaned.

It was right on six o clock in the morning and time for change over in the air traffic control tower, Kelsey had drawn the short straw this week and had been given three-night shifts in a row. Looking at his coffee he felt a small amount of guilt that he hadn’t even thought of his poor colleague that morning.

“Sorry Kelsey, my mind was drifting this morning, busy night?” He asked, walking over to his computer, setting down his coffee and placing his headset on.

“Not really, though if it had been busier, it might have made the night go quicker, anyway I’ll head off, my bed is calling me!” She flashed him a tired smile before taking off her own headset and getting ready to leave.

“…mayday……mayday……assistance!” Archie’s eyebrows scrunched together in immediate concern, the voice in his headset was broken and full of static, he pressed some buttons to put the frequency on the loudspeakers and waved over the manager. Kelsey had also paused at the door and was watching with concern.

“Where’s the broadcast coming from?” Albert was the day shift manager, a large brooding man and a pain in the ass most of the time but under pressure no one could deny he knew what he was doing.

“I- I don’t know, the coordinates are going haywire it won’t zero in on his location.” Archie said watching his computer screen with interest, there was nothing on the radar currently, the next expected flight in this morning wasn’t due for another hour.

“Ask him his location.” Albert said bluntly.

“This is coms tower 349, please confirm your location.” Archie said calmly, though having Albert breathing down his neck didn’t help much.

“Saker 28… unknown…fuel tank’s gone….mayday” The line was broken and static continued to fill the speakers.

“There!” Archie pointed to the radar, an unknown aircraft had just appeared on it, seemingly out of nowhere, it was large, possibly a jumbo jet and it was only a few miles out and coming in at speed.

“I repeat this is Raiden Kalver aboard Saker 284, fuel tank is down and navigation system fried, requiring immediate assistance!” The voice on the line had become clearer now.

“Raiden, this is Archie Nugent in Coms Tower 349, we see you on our radar, the landing strip is to your left do you see it?” Archie asked urgently, the plane was fast approaching, heading straight for them.

“I see it, it’s too small I’ll miss it.” Raiden’s heart had stopped briefly when someone had responded to his call for help and then out of the fog he could see land below him, the storm had dissipated but now he was facing a whole new set of problems.

He’d lost basically all control of his plane, the left wing was smoking where the fuel had ignited it and he was going down, headed straight for an airport ironically.

“There’s a field directly behind the coms tower, veer to the right and slow down as much as possible, you should be able to make it.” Archie answered nervously.

They could see the plane in the distance now, the rumbling sound of the engine loud, they only had a minute or two and the plane would hit them if Raiden didn’t veer out of the way.

“Ahhhhhh!” Raiden yelled, his hand on the brake and pulling as hard as his sore arms would allow, veering to the right, the plane was turning slowly, and he could see the field beyond.

“BRACE! BRACE!” Albert shouted at the air traffic controllers that were still within the tower.

Archie remained frozen, watching with wide eyes as the huge plane sped toward them, it was veering to the right, and he gasped as the large wing glided over the coms tower missing it by an inch. A loud crash sounded out behind them, and Archie turned to see the plane had slammed into the ground, raining dirt and smoke all around.

“Get a med team down there now!” Albert shouted. “Good work Archie.” He gave him a thump on the back which reminded Archie that he still hadn’t taken in a breath.

Regaining his composure, Archie quickly climbed down the steps of the tower and followed the medical team, jumping onto their buggy without a word, he needed to see that Raiden was okay. That had been a close call for all of them and he imagined if Raiden was unhurt, he would at least be extremely shook up.

They approached the smoking plane and grew wary as it grew bigger and bigger as they got closer to it, Raiden hadn’t mentioned any other souls being on board. What was a plane this size doing here anyway, this wasn’t a major city by any margin, and it was extremely rare to get anything landing here besides a small passenger plane.

The aircraft was mostly mangled and it was hard to make out where the doors or even the cockpit were, they didn’t need to guess for long though.

A door at least fifty feet tall was pushed open roughly with a resounding bang and then a boot the size of a bus crashed down right beside the buggy. The medical team screamed and backed the buggy up only to bump right into a second boot.

“Holy shit.” Archie gasped, he jumped off the buggy and looked upward, a man, no a giant man stood taller than most of the buildings in his town.

Raiden had just crashed, he’d never crashed a plane before, he’d had some close calls in the past, but he’d never actually crashed. The force of the crash sent Raiden’s head slamming into the controls and after shaking the stars out of his eyes he looked around with urgency, the cabin was now filling with smoke, and he coughed as he pulled the handle on the door.

It wouldn’t budge so he threw his body at the door, kicking and punching it until it shifted just enough that he was able to pry it open. The sound of alarms rang from within the aircraft and Raiden quickly stepped out into the unfamiliar landscape.

Where the fields should have been green or brown even, he was surrounded by pale lilac coloured grass, something was not right. A sound came from where he’d placed his feet in the odd dark green dirt and he looked down, eyes widening immediately.

What looked like a toy golf buggy had just bumped into his boot and beside the buggy an impossibly small man stood staring up at him with wide eyes.

Raiden immediately took several steps backward away from the scene at his feet only to trip on the uneven ground and land roughly on his ass. The tremor caused by his fall could be seen as it tossed the small man to the ground and caused the buggy to tip over, more tiny people clambering out as a result.

“Man, I must have hit my head harder than I thought.” Raiden grumbled and put a hand to his still throbbing head.

Just when he was about to pinch himself, Raiden noticed the first little man he’d seen had now picked himself up off the ground and was walking cautiously toward him.

“A-are you Raiden?” The small voice reached his ears and he recognised it immediately as the man who had been on the intercom with him, Archie.

Raiden noticed now that the people weren’t exactly normal either, this little man’s skin was a pale green and his shaggy hair was a deep purple, where on earth had he landed? Was he even still on earth anymore?

“Yes.” Raiden answered, unsure of what else to do, they spoke English, he supposed that was a start, but he didn’t have any clue where he was or if these people could potentially be hostile.

“Are you okay?” Archie asked, stepping closer still, this man was so odd looking, his skin was a sickly cream colour and his hair a dull sort of brown, he’d never seen another person like him before, could he be an alien?

“Uh.” Was all Raiden could say before a loud bang like explosion came from the cockpit, the controls had now caught fire, they needed to get away now before the whole thing blew.

“Shit! It’s gonna blow!” Raiden warned urgently, he stood then ready to run and then remembered the little people wouldn’t be able to run as fast as he could.

“Ah, excuse me.” He said awkwardly as he grasped the small man Archie in a fast and scooped the rest around the buggy into his hands. With no time to marvel that about eight people were currently squashed between his hands, he held them to his chest and ran.

The aircraft finally engulfed by flames signalled it’s destructive end with a huge explosion, Raiden ducked down shielding the small people from the debris as it rained down around him. When the worst appeared to be over, he lowered his hands to the ground in front of him as the small people tumbled none too gently in the emerald soil.

“Sorry, I uh, I didn’t know what else to do.” He explained lamely.

Though the experience had been harrowing for Archie and the small team of medical crew, they were safely on land and largely unharmed save for a few bruises when the giant had squashed them together.

“He nearly killed us!” One of the medical crew shouted.

“He didn’t!” Archie shouted, though standing in the presence of someone so huge made his stomach church and his heart rate skyrocket, he found himself defending the injured pilot.

“In case you haven’t noticed, he crash landed here! He’s injured and despite everything he saved us from the explosion! So why don’t you do your damn job and check him over!” Archie couldn’t believe how authoritarian he sounded just then.

Though the giant was potentially dangerous, he’d done nothing thus far to show he meant any of them any harm. He could have left them there beside his aircraft, he could be an alien sent here to destroy them, but Archie didn’t think so. The mayday call had held real urgency, he didn’t think the giant had come here intentionally, wherever he had come from. He appeared just as shocked and confused as Archie and his colleagues did.

The medical crew stood shocked at Archie’s outburst, none of them moved an inch.

“Well!?” Archie urged, waving toward the giant who’d now laid down on his stomach to observe the small people better, and to be on more equal ground with them.

“It’s okay Archie.” Raiden spoke up then, noting the uneasy looks on the medical crews faces. “I’m not hurt, just a bump on the head really…uh but I do have some questions…” He said carefully.

“You and me both.” Archie laughed.

“I guess the main question is, where am I?”

I suck at endings, maybe because I never want them to end, so cliff hangers are a thing. Don’t worry this idea has been in my head for a loooong time, I have a whole story plotted out for these two but for the sake of G/t July and the theme of the day being ‘Alien’ I felt I owed it to you guys to share a snippet of this now. Hehe, stay tuned for more!

[animasolaoriginal]

(8) I n n o c e n c e L o s t

He finds her in a brothel of all places. A chance encounter, but one that will change his life – and hers – forever. – or: A story about a cowboy who falls in love with a prostitute, who happens to be so much more than that.

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

Chapter 1▫️2▫️3▫️4▫️5▫️6▫️7▫️8▫️9▫️10▫️11▫️12▫️13 ...

Chapter 8: The Connection

m!OC x f!OC -- WORDS: 5.7k -- READ ON AO3

when conflicts turn into cravings

Chapter 7 -- Chapter 9

8

There are two conflicting things inside Nebbia's head.

One is just: kiss. How he kissed her, that he wants to kiss her, his lips, his mouth, his tongue, the scratch and tickle of his beard. The breathless, warm sensation. Kiss.

The other is: father. And there's the conflict, because she doesn't know what to think about that. Doesn't know how a father should be. She still recognizes the problem: fathers shouldn't kiss their daughters. Right? Not like that! But then she also doubts he actually is her father. Just because they share a dimple? Is that enough?

But their connection is there, that tension between them, how easy it is to be around him, how safe she feels. Is that how a father should feel like, or is it just Ben? In his protective, caring way, the gentle giant, holding her so cautiously while also handling her like a doll, picking her up, carrying her around, moving her how he wants to. Is it just their size and age difference?

She doesn't need a parent, never has, never will. She needs him for something else. To be there, hold her, kiss her, do more things to her... Things a father shouldn't do.

But then: does it matter if he is or isn't? She told him it didn't, and honestly: they'll never know. There's no proof, just that little dimple. She's noticed it on his face before, only on the right cheek, just like hers, but she's never drawn the same conclusion he had. So he knew her mother, loved her mother, about twenty years ago, give or take some months (nine?), but is that enough as well?

If anything, it is just strange to think that he did those things to her mother that she wants him to do to her. Though, to be fair, at the end of the day, Keira was just another woman in his life (and she bets he's had many), just another body he can press his against.

The concept of mother and father is something she will never fully understand. Madam Claire hasn't been a mother figure, none of the other girls or women in the brothel have been, and Ben is not a father figure, despite his age and size and demeanor. He is just Ben. And she refuses to think of him as anything else. It won't change her feelings for him anyway.

Feelings. That's the warmth in her stomach when he touches her, the shivers on her spine when he leans closer and whispers into her ear, the little throb between her legs when he looks at her, with those dark but warm eyes, when she looks back into his rough, handsome face, searching for that little smile that so rarely grazes his features, that makes her heart flutter.

Right now, her heart is close to exploding. She feels like a rabbit cornered by a wolf – if the wolf had warm hands and strong arms, holding her protectively against himself. She inhales deeply but quickly, rough little gasps, more air in than out, trying to calm herself after whatever happened just now. (Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.)

Ben is warm beneath her, against her, around her. Her fingers stroke his thick dark hair (much darker than hers), messing it up even more. She slowly relaxes into the embrace, coming down from the unusually intense moment (just a kiss...). She's done so many other things with her mouth before, but this has felt special, like an explosion of some kind, on her lips, on her tongue, on every inch of skin that he has touched.

She moves her head and presses her forehead against his neck, taking another deep breath, inhaling him, while her hands smooth down the back of his head, until she puts them on his shoulders and leans back, meeting his gaze, shifting on his lap. His dark eyes are intense, black on one side, a deep glowing amber on the other where the sun hits his face. A soft smile (that smile!) curls his lips, and she can't help it, she smiles back, it's contagious.

His eyes shift to her cheek, but she ignores the sight on his, doesn't need to see that dimple. It doesn't matter. Instead she moves her hands up and puts her palms on his cheeks, rubbing over his beard. He watches her, patient and calm. She is tempted to move back in, kiss him again, kiss him for the rest of her life (if only she could live off just his kisses, what a wonderful world that would be!), but her own body betrays her as a loud rumble breaks through the quiet moment of just them, the birds and the hum of the forest around them. And Thunder snorting just a few feet away from where they're sitting on the small porch.

Ben smirks at her. “Hungry?” While she blushes, looking away with a groan, he moves one of his hands to her stomach, gently spreading his long fingers on it, giving it a soft press. “I'd say you could use some food, huh? Skinny little thing that you are.”

She huffs, wanting to pout, but his hand on her stomach feels too nice, so warm and comforting. Looking down at it, she puts her own hand on his, scoffing a laugh at how small hers is in comparison. She feels his warm breath on her forehead before he leans in and presses his lips to it.

“Come on, let's see what can we're opening today. I think I'm in the mood for some peaches,” he says with a chuckle, shifting beneath her. More than reluctantly, she grabs his shoulders and gets off his lap, then steps back and holds out her hands for him to grab.

“Need help, old man?” she teases with a smirk.

He throws her a dark glare, but the corner of his lips curls up into a smirk of his own. He grabs her hand, but instead of letting her pull him up, he pulls her back in, and suddenly his hands are on her waist as he flings her over his shoulder. She yelps in surprise, clawing at his back as her world is turned upside down. He gets to his feet, hurling her up with him, one hand on her rear, the other hooked around the back of her knee.

“Ben!” she screeches, her hair falling over her head, a sense of vertigo gripping her empty insides as she kicks her feet playfully.

He only laughs, a deep vibration through his body, and carries her back into the cabin.

The sun has moved far into the sky, casting barely any shadows as they sit on the small porch of the cabin and share a can of peaches. The air is thick, it's going to be another hot day it seems, and she realizes it must be peak summer. The few times she was allowed to leave the brothel to do laundry in the backyard, she hasn't noticed as much.

Now, sitting in the bright sunshine, wearing Ben's clothes, the cut-off jeans tied high around her waist, the black undershirt that's thin but still sticking to her sweat-slick body, and the shirt she's already discarded of and using as a blanket to sit on, are not ideal for this weather (though they are useful at night when the temperatures drop immensely). She wiggles her toes, glad to have at least a little bit of skin exposed.

“We'll ride into town today and get you some more clothes, okay? Some boots too,” Ben mutters past a bite of slippery peach before handing her the can.

She nods, fishing another piece of fruit out of the small container, her fingers wet and slick, and she barely manages to get the bite into her mouth. “Is it safe, though?” she asks, swallowing, wiping at her sticky mouth.

He huffs a grunt of confirmation. “We managed to put quite the distance in, should be safe enough. No one's behind us anyway, guess we slipped away before they could decide what to do.”

“Hmm,” she makes, eyeing the almost empty can. “Last piece, do you want it?” she asks, holding it on her palm.

“Nah, you eat it, you need it to get bigger,” he teases with a wink.

Nebbia scoffs. “But I'm already full, you're probably still hungry, hm? I bet that giant body of yours needs it more,” she teases right back.

He watches her for a moment, a strange glint in his dark eyes. Slowly he leans in, closes his long fingers around her hand and holds it still while he grabs the last piece of peach between the forefinger and thumb of his other hand. “Open up, missy,” he grunts, smirking at her.

She tilts her head, unable to keep the grin down. When he leans even closer, she opens her mouth, tongue out, flat and wide, and waits with her heart beating faster. He puts his fingers to her mouth, the sweet, slippery fruit touching her tongue, and she tastes it and him, feels the warmth of his fingers against her lips – and she can't help but close them around his fingertips. It's almost an instinct.

His gaze darkens, his jaw clenches, and while she gives his fingers the slightest hint of a suck, pulling them slightly deeper, he groans, removes his fingers and replaces them with his mouth as he captures hers for a deep, searing kiss that causes her to gasp in surprise. His hand grips the back of her neck as he pulls her towards him, quickly slipping his tongue between her lips, licking around the inside of her mouth, and she tastes the peach on her tongue and him, more of him, and before she knows it, he leans back again, swallowing audibly.

She realizes he's stolen the fruit right out of her mouth. A deep blush creeps up her cheeks as she watches him lick his lips, giving her a wide smile. “Guess you were right, I was still hungry after all,” he says and winks at her. He grabs the can from her hand and drinks the last bit of liquid in it, then puts it to the ground and stands up.

As he walks past her to prepare for their departure, his hand ruffles her hair while she looks after him with her lips still parted. That man...

“Show me your hand,” he requests after he drops the bags next to her a few minutes later, crouching down with a stern look on his face. She frowns, shifts on her knees and extends her hand, having already forgotten about the cut she's gotten from climbing through a broken window in the middle of the night. It feels so long ago, it's only been half a day.

He takes her small hand into his larger one, turns her palm up, moves his thumb gently over the bandage. It sticks to the wound, and the fabric has darkened a little. She watches him remove it carefully, trying not to wince, and he keeps his eyes on her when she can't control her reactions. Her heart races, and it's not the slight pain of the cut, but the intimate gesture that makes her stomach churn.

She's still trying to make sense of all these emotions whirling through her, the conflicting ones as much as the overwhelming ones, the ones that make her yearn for more. He's just tending to her wound, cleaning it with cautious dabs of a cloth soaked in alcohol, then wraps a new strip of bandage around her palm, his long fingers working with confidence and ease, while she has to force herself not to shiver whenever there's skin to skin contact.

There's a faint taste of copper on her tongue when she realizes she's bitten her lip hard enough to draw blood. Being done with her hand, Ben looks at her, then raises his own to wipe his thumb over her bottom lip, his dark eyes wandering over her mouth before they move higher. She meets his gaze, her heart fluttering, stomach tense and warm, and that obnoxious throb somewhere lower makes it hard to breathe.

“We should go,” he then says, quiet, a low hum in the air between them.

She swallows, nods, licks her lips – and his thumb by accident because she's too focused on his face than to notice his hand still holding her chin. A smirk plays around the corner of his mouth, and before she knows it, he's leaned in and gives her a short but sweet little press of his lips to hers, not even a proper kiss, just a brushing, and it's enough to make her cheeks warm up even more.

“Come on,” his voice wafts to her ears, and he stands up and grabs her elbow to pull her onto her feet.

She's back on top of the giant horse, sitting sideways in Ben's lap, gripping the horn of the saddle tightly, his arms around her as he guides Thunder through the thicket of the forest. The vertigo of being so high up is still there, but as it's midday, and when they finally leave the forest, she can at least focus on the horizon, vehemently trying to ignore the ground so far below her.

He's asked her to put her long hair up into a messy bun, and he's secured it with one of those black bandanas that are tied around one of the saddle's straps. Conveniently placed should he ever need to hide his face while on the back of the large animal. With everything happening she has barely had time to think about the Wanted posters he's shown her. About his past.

Robbery. Theft. Murder. Being an outlaw, wanted by the law. Just like her mother.

She turns her head slightly and looks up at him. He looks different in the daytime. Messy dark hair shimmering black and brown and auburn in the sunlight, locks moving with every up and down of the horse, his brown eyes are glowing, warm and inviting, his skin weathered and tan, the darkness of his beard not as full as at night, almost a little patchy, sprinkled with the hint of lighter hairs in between, trimmed but also a little messy in spots, thicker above his lip and around his chin. Rough looking, but she knows by now that she likes the tickle of it on her sensitive skin.

“Do I have something on my face?” he suddenly asks, lips (oh the shape of his lips) curling up into a smile, stretching his beard over his cheeks, exposing the dimple.

“Uh,” she stammers, clearing her throat, feeling a deep warmth creeping up her neck. “Yeah, a lot of hair, actually,” she tells him and sticks her tongue out playfully.

His laugh resonates through his body, moving into hers. He tightens his arm around her waist and pulls her closer, holding her securely in his embrace while he leans down a little, and before she can pull her tongue back fully, he's captured her mouth, giving her tongue a gentle suck, then kisses her softly (a sudden explosion behind her eyelids, sweet tingles on her skin, a somewhat familiar heat rushing into her stomach) before he leans back up again, licking his lips.

“Cheeky little thing,” he rumbles, and she blushes even more, giggling quietly. His eyes focus back ahead as Thunder trots along a path through a wide field, the forest long behind them. But she doesn't really pay attention to her surroundings, she's still looking at Ben. “Anything else I can help you with?” he whispers without looking at her.

She coughs slightly and looks away. “Is it really safe?” she then asks quietly, turning back, trying to see their destination in the distance. “Going to town?”

“It is,” he says confidently. “Nobody knows us there. Don't worry.”

“Are you sure?”

“I doubt anyone will recognize you looking like this,” he replies, shifting the reins into the hand around her waist to raise the other to pat the messy bun on top of her head. “And to be fair, I look like every other man of the West, or the wild. And,” he adds, leaning a little closer, his rough cheek scraping against her soft skin, “we're just going shopping, sweetheart, nothing to be worried about. Most shop keepers are very discreet...”

“And you're not gonna rob them?” she asks bluntly, turning her head back to look at him out of the corner of her eye.

He laughs, nosing her cheek before leaning back. “No promises,” he says with a wink.

“Ben!” she calls out in a mixture of shock and playful indignation.

“No robberies today,” he sighs, his hand moving down to grip her nape gently. “If you insist...”

His touch sends shivers through her body. For a moment he leaves his hand there, long fingers curling around her neck, teasing at her throat. She swallows hard against them. Eventually he slides it down along her spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake, then it's back, resting on her thighs as he passes the reins into that hand again.

She's gotten quite used to Thunder's constant bumping motions, the up and down, the swaying. Somehow the giant horse moves rather smoothly over the flat terrain, his heavy hooves seemingly barely hitting the ground. What she's not gotten used to yet (or ever will) is how Ben's subtle touches make her feel now. They seem even more exhilarating, sending more shudders down her limbs, warming her from within, fueling the throbbing between her legs.

Now the combination of the horse's movements and Ben's touches is really not ideal. She inhales sharply and tries to focus on what lies ahead. Shopping.

The town is small, smaller than the one she's lived in her whole life (not that she's seen much of it, though), it's just a dirt road and a couple of old wooden buildings on one side and a vast open field on the other. A saloon, hotel, general store, a stable at the end. Not many people around, only two other horses parked outside the bar.

She's relieved. Ben guides Thunder towards the front of the general store and swiftly hoists himself off his back with a wide swing of his leg and a heavy thud when his boots land in the dirt. Without much hesitation, he grabs her waist and lifts her off as well, his touch strong and reassuring, but too short for her liking.

While Ben grabs the reins and wraps them around a pole near the steps leading to the porch up to the store, Nebbia readjusts the tight belt around her unusually high-waisted jeans (she still feels particularly small in his pants, the legs are too wide, the cut off edges fringing and tickling her feet, the form just doesn't fit, and frankly the rough fabric chafes a little between her legs with how high he's pulled them up). She's rolled up the sleeves of both the undershirt and the warmer plaid shirt, but it's not helping in the scorching heat of the sun.

So going shopping actually sounds pretty good right about now.

Ben holds out his hand to her, and she puts her smaller one onto his palm and smiles a little shyly, before he leads her into the general store. A little bell above the door announces them when they enter the rather dark room. Shelves line the walls, filled with various boxes and cans and other containers, and she wonders if she'll get clothes here after all.

“I'll be right with you!” calls a voice from somewhere in the back, and she realizes there must be more rooms. “Take a look at the catalog while you wait!”

Her confusion grows, but Ben leads her towards the counter and pulls a thick book towards himself, flips casually through the pages while squeezing her hand a little. She watches him, watches his long fingers moving the printed pages, how the veins and tendons on the back of his hand move under his tan skin. She's slightly distracted by the sight, imagining his hands elsewhere, and when he suddenly steps around her and places those hands on her shoulders, she gasps softly, turning her head to look up at him.

“Pick something,” he whispers softly, nodding towards the book in front of her.

She blinks, then looks back, noticing a section full of drawings of women in various clothes. Dresses, skirts, blouses, even pants and belts, shirts and vests. She flips through the pages, so many options, coats, jackets, shoes, even underwear. Bloomers, long and short and very short, chemises and nightgowns, corsets, various pieces of very revealing lingerie. She blushes at the drawings, biting her lip.

As if she hasn't worn most of those things herself before, has seen real women wearing them. It does feel like a very long time ago, even though it's been barely two days now, or less? It feels more, at least it's been a couple of very long nights, that she can say.

The clerk joins them on the other side of the counter and together they decide on quite the collection for her. She's highly embarrassed to discuss her clothing choices with two grown men, and is even more embarrassed when she realizes that Ben has to pay for all of this. But he doesn't hesitate one bit at the large sum at the end. He only smiles, his hand on her waist as they wait for the shop keeper to gather their purchases.

(“I can give you a better life,” he's said the night they have met. But considering how he lives, tucked away in the forest in a dilapidated house surrounded by tents and wagons, she's forgotten how wealthy he may be.)

“Does the young miss want to slip into an outfit right away?” the other man calls from the back, startling her slightly. She looks up at Ben, and he only nods, giving her a gentle nudge, but she grabs his wrist and shakes her head, pressing her lips together, the idea to be alone in a room with a strange man sending cold shivers down her spine, the bad kind.

He frowns, but then nods, his features darkening slightly. “Of course, forgive me, I'll come with you,” he says softly, grabs her hand and leads her into the backroom where the clerk stands in front of a wall of various garments and dresses and other clothing items organized on racks. There's a partition screen in one corner, some more boxes and shelves in the other.

“Well, what's it going to be?” the clerk asks with a friendly smile, and Nebbia feels almost bad that she's assumed he might harm her in any way. She looks at the clothes he's laid out for her, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Ben steps beside her then.

“Something comfortable should do, we have a long ride ahead of us,” he says, his voice low and particularly booming in the small room.

The other man nods and grabs the riding skirt they picked out, and one of the blouses, both in earthy tones, the skirt in a deep brown, the blouse in a soft beige with white stripes. She takes the clothes from him with a shy smile and turns towards the privacy screen, when she feels Ben's finger hooking around the back of her belt.

“This too,” he whispers, holding out a pair of medium long bloomers. Her eyes widen, but she grabs it quickly, then slips behind the screen, her cheeks bright red. She has no idea why she is so embarrassed, that man has seen her naked multiple times now, probably also knows how sore her bum is from riding in too big jeans for a night and a day. It's just strange to her that a man would care about her like this.

She quickly strips off the borrowed clothes and puts on the new ones. There's a floor length mirror leaning against the wall, and once she's done buttoning the blouse that feels so nice on her skin, she takes a cautious look. The riding skirt sits snug on her waist, accentuating the swell of her hips and following an almost A-shape downwards, and despite being called a skirt it's actually a two-legged pants-contraption, looking like a skirt. Should be useful for riding like a man, she thinks.

The blouse is quite form fitting, the fabric soft and cool on her skin, hugging the curves of her small breasts, the dip of her waist and the shape of her spine. The sleeves are rolled up but can be pulled down as well, for now she leaves them up, exposing her pale forearms. Watching herself, she tugs at the black bandana and frees the long waves of her hair, trying to smooth it with slightly shaking hands. But it's messy and quite unruly (maybe she should ask Ben for a brush or a comb), so she decides to braid it into a sloppy side braid instead, fixing the ends together with the bandana.

“Are you done?” she hears Ben's deep voice.

“Yes,” she replies and steps out from behind the partition screen. His dark eyes are on her immediately, wandering up and down, and she's still blushing.

He steps closer, one large hand finding her waist. “Beautiful,” he whispers, giving her a soft smile, before he blinks and looks down. “You need shoes.”

He turns back to the clerk watching them from the other side of the room, and while she still fights her rapidly beating heart, the men discuss shoe choices, and then Ben returns with a pair of black ankle boots and a pair of white frilly socks.

She gasps softly when he kneels down in front of her and grabs her ankle, she can barely put her hands on his shoulders for support. He lifts her foot slightly, one, then the other, and puts the socks on (long warm fingers sliding along her skin, squeezing her ankle), then the shoes, and when he's done, he straightens up again and nods at her, seemingly content with how she looks.

The shoes give her a few inches more to her height, but she still has to look up at the tall man who keeps smiling at her. A strange sight, but not unwelcome. Yet it does remind her of the dimple on his right cheek, much more visible now, and what it represents, supposedly.

“I have to say, I enjoy dressing you up,” he whispers with a wink, and she blushes yet another shade of red, if that is even possible. He grabs her hand and gently pulls her along, then accepts the large bag of clothes the clerk holds out for him.

“Wait!” she suddenly says, remembering something. He frowns at her, even more so when she slips out of his grip and quickly walks back to behind the screen. “Your clothes,” she says, grabbing the jeans, undershirt and plaid button-up from where she has discarded them. Fishing the switchblade he'd given her out of the pants pocket, she looks at it, then bends down quickly to secure it inside her sock, feeling it press against her ankle, like a reminder (to hopefully never having to use it).

“Oh, you don't need them anymore,” he tells her, then looks towards the shop keeper. “Can we leave those here?”

“No!” she says a little too loud, causing both men to stare at her. “I... I'd like to keep them...” They smell like you, she wants to add, but doesn't.

Ben watches her for a moment, then sighs and holds the open bag towards her. She smiles happily and puts his old clothes to the new clothes he's bought for her (another skirt, a sundress, more blouses, bloomers and a chemise). Then she grabs his arm and smiles up at him. His eyes are on her cheek before he meets hers.

It takes him a moment to move on, to break eye contact (weave through the unspoken words between them), but then he pulls her along, thanks the clerk and leaves the store with her.

Outside in the sun, the giant black horse snorts in greeting. “Look, Thunder, how generous Ben was,” she tells the animal and pats his large neck, then grabs a few sugar cubes from the pouch hanging off the horn and feeds them to him, while her eyes wander to the tall man who attaches the bag of clothes to the saddle, looking up at her words. She smiles at him. “Thank you,” she then adds quietly. “That really was generous, and maybe a little too much... but I'm grateful...”

He walks towards her, raising one hand to brush the back of his finger against her cheek. “Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers, then leans down, his lips so close to hers, but then he drifts off and presses them to her other cheek. She hums, both in delight and disappointment.

Straightening back up, he watches her for a moment. “So, how do you wanna sit now, with your new attire?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he leans casually against Thunder's big body.

“Is it really going to be a long ride?” she whispers softly, stepping closer to him, tilting her chin up to look at him.

“We'll ride the rest of the day, yes,” he replies, watching her closely.

“Then the... lady way, I guess, it is more comfortable,” she says, mindlessly playing with the stirrup strap in front of her while her eyes wander over his face. “Unless it's not for you?”

“Any way is fine with me, you barely weigh anything,” he muses with a smirk, one of his hands moving to her waist until he pokes her side, making her squirm and giggle.

She grabs his wrist, pouting up at him breathlessly. He only laughs, then properly grabs her waist and hoists her into the air effortlessly. She can't help the little shriek escaping her. Luckily the town is still pretty empty, though she suddenly notices a shadow in the window behind Ben. The owner of the general store is watching them, and she wonders why. But then she sits on Thunder's saddle, sideways like requested, and focuses back on the tall man now climbing up behind her.

He always makes it look so easy to get up the giant animal. Once he settles in the saddle, both boots in the stirrups, he grabs her again and adjusts her position, nudging her between his thighs with her legs dangling off to one side. His hand rests heavy on her knees, holding them comfortably, while the other snakes around her back and grabs the reins.

Thunder starts moving with a gentle nudge of Ben's spurs and a click of his tongue, slowly walking past the rest of the buildings. When they pass the saloon, the swinging doors fly open and a group of men emerges, laughing and arguing, loud voices in the quiet afternoon. Ben completely ignores them, but Nebbia throws them a curious gaze.

They're all wearing cowboy hats and boots, jeans and chaps, gun holsters, some even have two, crossed over their hips. She's seen the type before, most without their pants on (or at least their dicks out), and suddenly realizes something.

“Hey, why aren't you wearing a hat?” she asks quietly, looking back towards the other men.

He doesn't reply right away, causing her to look at him instead. She catches the clenching of his jaw, but when he notices her stare, he smirks at her. “Do I have to? Am I only a real cowboy with a hat on?”

“Well, I always assumed that's part of the outfit,” she laughs.

“Outfit?” Ben chuckles and shakes his head with an amused glint in his brown eyes. “Never tell a cowboy you think he's wearing an outfit. Being a cowboy is so much more, it's a job, it's a lifestyle, not just an outfit. And you know, I don't even think I am one.”

Outlaw. Thief. Murderer. The words come to her instantly, and she's ashamed they do. He's more than those words too.

“I'm just a man trying to find his place in the world,” he muses, squeezing her knee.

She watches him in silence for a moment, biting her lip. “So am I, I guess,” she whispers, and his eyes move down to hers. “Not a man, though, obviously,” she adds with an awkward little laugh. “But –”

His voice is a deep rumble when he asks: “Have you ever thought about what you'd like to do, where you'd like to be, if... well, if you weren't born in that brothel?” Destined to service men? she adds in her mind.

“No,” she replies without much thought. “I never thought I'd actually leave that place, to be honest...”

He tightens his arm around her slightly as he spurs Thunder on to walk faster. The horse falls into a steady trot, making them bounce a little on his back. She grabs Ben's arm for support. “Well, you're free now,” he tells her with a warm gaze. “Start thinking about it.”

A shy smile makes her lips twitch. “I will,” she whispers after a moment, nodding pensively. She turns her head back to look ahead, scooting closer to him, leaning against his chest. He holds her there, shifting the reins to his other hand to wrap his arm around her completely.

There is only one answer to his question in her mind right now: with him. Wherever he goes. Whatever he does. She wants to be with him.

Chapter 7 -- Chapter 9

End notes: Kinda turned Ben into a sugar daddy in this chapter, huh? Oh well, not the worst thing that could have happened.

Remember the cut Nebbia got from climbing out of the window in chapter 6 or the switchblade he gave her? Yeah, me neither while I wrote this. Oops. But never mind that, I tried to work it in between scenes, hope it works somehow.

By the way, the whole eating out of cans and flipping through a catalog to buy stuff is blatantly stolen from Red Dead Redemption 2, as are many other things, but we'll not dwell on that, okay? It's my prime source of Wild West research.

Credits to the respective owners of these pictures. I don't own anything. I gathered these from all around the Internet. If you see your picture and would like to have it removed, please tell me!

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Friday!

AO3 -- MASTERLIST -- INSPIRATION POSTS

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Burn The Ships (1/?)

THIS IS/WILL BE MATURE.

NOW WITH BEAUTIFUL COVER ART BY @snowbellewells

AO3 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

Summary: Pan and his pack of gruesome werewolves torment and put an end to individuals who find themselves unlucky enough to be a guest of Neverland. After being betrayed by her ex, Emma finds herself the game in this month’s hunt.

Captain Hook has never found the sport particularly alluring, preferring to spend his change far from Pan’s cruel crew. When he catches the scent of his mate, he is forced to join in the hunt to find her before the others can.

Saving her will mean betraying Pan and no one betrays Peter Pan and lives to tell about it.

@anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4 , @pirateswhore, @stahlopp, @teamhook, @tiganasummertreee, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert

Author Note: This little fic is a birthday gift for the always encouraging and absolutely wonderful @kmomof4. I was initially drawn to Moonlight Sonata because it is also one of my favourites and the story behind the song felt like Killian meeting Emma for the first time. (I also love Für Elise but it doesn’t make me think of CS as much as Snowing and I cannot really explain that.) Then, I thought “oooh, CS PHANTOM OF THE OPERA?!” for about thirty seconds before realising that maybe I did not want to take that on while I was trying to finish up Witchy Woman and plotting the CS Miraculous Fic and that one Bridgerton-based CS Fic. But, then, I listened to Burn the Ships and read about the inspiration behind those lyrics and absolutely knew that was the one. What is more Captain Swain than battling demons (internal and external) and enduring together? Anywhoosies, HAPPY BIRTHDAY (this month)!! Thank you so much for all the flails, the sanity checking, the gifs, the cheerleading, and for just generally being one of the brightest lights in all of our lives. (Edit: atge birthday is on the 15th, I know. This whole thing happened where this was a two-parter and now it is a whole long thing and the posting schedule SHOULD work out so the whole thing is done by the 15th.)

Emma woke to the harsh sunlight infiltrating the discoloured curtains hanging limply over the large window her lumpy mattress had been pushed against. This was the worst part of her day - these moments in which the lie of her dreams, even the worst of them, gave way to the nightmarish truth of her reality. She fought against the dread seeping into her heart and tried to hold on to the last remnants of her dream, but it faded away as the scarred wardrobe came into clearer focus before her.

Despair, however, was less easily shaken. That endless emptiness accompanied her as she started toward the water basin to splash cold water on her face. Her gaze lifted to meet the empty emerald eyes she knew would stare back at her. She had watched helplessly as the hope drained from them, over the last several months, taking with it the anger and defiance that once glimmered behind them.

Fantasies, like hope, were for those with people or a pack, who cared. Lone wolves, orphaned at birth and betrayed to the monster who ruled this island by their shitty ex-fiancées, weren’t missed. And without any to notice your absence, who would know to rescue you?

“Cheer up,” a cheerful boyish voice chirped from behind her. She jumped and spun around - having your back to the demon was never a good idea. Pan was there, in the middle of the dreary room, looking at her with a dark sort of crazed humour dancing behind his eyes. That look meant he had a new twisted game to play. Her stomach fell and icy fear gripped her heart - losing came at a high price in Neverland and she always lost.

“As you doubtlessly know, the moon will be full tonight.” Pan paused and waited for her to respond. As if any wolf would be oblivious to the phases of the moon, she buried her annoyance at the patronising question and nodded for him to continue. “Tonight, I am letting you out of the garden. You’ll get to run the length of the island.”

Emma knew there was a catch, but after spending several transformations pacing the tiny gated garden, the prospect of running had her heart racing with excitement.

“As you lead us in tonight’s hunt.”

Her blood turned to ice in her veins. She was going to die tonight.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

“OOOHHHH, CAPTAIN!” A sing-song voice called from somewhere high on the main mast.

“Pan, to what do we owe this unexpected visit?” Hook called back genially. He swept his arms out wide, in a welcoming gesture, discretely sliding the small vial into a hidden pocket of his coat.

Pan flew lower, hovering just above head height, forcing Killian to look up at him. A sweet scent filled the air between, something soft and warm. Killian couldn’t hear Pan's next words as the wolf within tried to locate the source of the scent. With the change coming so soon, Killian knew he would struggle to fight the impulses of the wolf. He had to get away from this enchanting distraction before Pan noticed his attention was elsewhere.

“Let’s discuss whatever business you have away from listening ears.” Hook gestured toward the ladder leading to his quarters, hoping the breeze would not penetrate the boards.

“As you well know, the hunt will be tonight. I do hope you and your crew will attend.” Pan started, as Killian filled a glass with rum in an effort to steady himself. The room around him was saturated with the warm - Vanilla? No, not quite. What is the point of being a bloody wolf if I can’t determine a bleeding smell? - scent. Could a scent be alluring and inviting? Because Killian felt an inexplicable sense of contentedness, something cosy he was drawn to like the heat of a fire, that seemed directly related to the sudden arrival of the scent. Was this possibly a new torture device derived from this cruel realm?

"What do you say, Captain?" Pan sneered, the last word sounding as an insult rather than a well-earned title.

"I'll not be joining your pack of savage, cruel beasts as they set out to torment an innocent you have captured for a barbaric ritual of bloodlust and cruelty."

"We're all wolves, Hook," Pan responded. "You can keep to your ridiculous code, acting as though you are a gentleman despite the tasks you perform in your service to me. But, you cannot deny that the same blood-thirsty animal lives under your skin. One day, you'll relish letting the darkness play alongside my pack. We're the same at the heart of it."

"I am nothi…"

"Ah, ah, Captain, you wouldn't want to say anything regretful, now, would you?" Pan smiled his cruelest smile and Killian swallowed down his annoyance. The last time Killian had crossed Pan still hurt as fresh as the night Pan’s pack had stolen Milah’s pup from his ship. Killian heard Bae’s weak howls from the depths of the Mermaid Lagoon and raced toward his ship as quickly as possible in the dense jungle. When his paws landed with heavy thuds on the wooden gangway, the overly sweet, coppery smell of blood filled the air - air that was notably barren of any of the sounds or scents that had made the Jolly Roger home. Without even a single survivor to share the burden of grief and burial, laying his sailors to rest had taken days - purging the Jolly of all evidence of the massacre had taken much longer.

“Aye,” Killian growled out.

“Good, lad.” Pan evaporated, leaving him alone in his cabin. The sweet scent that had entranced him moments before faded away. Realisation dawning, Killian swore but did nothing to soothe the sudden rage burning hot through him.

The bloody demon had his mate.

[silentcrowsilentravens]

Could I get Cass killing a monster, only to realize it's her S/O turned?

Ohh, painful. Of course!

Cassandra Dimitrescu killing a monster, only to realize it used to be her s/o.

(Gender neutral).

Warnings: blood, violence, death.

Masterlists here!

"Go away, Dani. I don't want to be bothered right now."

"You haven't let me bother you for forever now!" Daniela whines. She has to raise her voice quite a bit because the maiden Cassandra is torturing won't stop screaming. "Why have you been especially grouchy lately?"

"I haven't been."

Daniela spares a glance at the growing collection of dead maidens and crystalized Moroaice around the cellar. Almost all courtesy of her sister.

"...Right. You know—"

"If you don't leave, I'm going to tell Mother what actually happened to her favorite wine glass."

Daniela gasps, "You wouldn't."

"Care to test me?"

After a moment of consideration, Daniela lets out an overdramatic sigh. "Fine..." She throws her arms up and meanders her way back upstairs.

The screams of the maiden peter out. Her movements still.

"Dead already?" Cassandra mutters, her sulkiness still far from lifted. "I had a feeling you'd be a bore..."

She refuses to admit what has her In such a poor mood.

(It's you).

You stopped writing.

You stopped visiting.

She doesn't understand.

Did you fall out of love with her and decide to cut things off without another word? Like a coward?

What if you never truly cared for her at all? What if you were using her all along? That better not be the case. Cassandra will drain you of your blood if it is.

Could you have gotten yourself injured? Sick?

She's sorely tempted to go down to your house and the village and find out.

Unfortunately, she can't. Her mother will kill her if she finds out she went outside while there's still snow on the ground.

...

Fuck it. Cassandra can't stand another second of this.

In the dead of night, she dons the thickest clothes she owns, puts on a heavy cloak (which you're always so insistent that she wears when you think it's too chilly outside), clips her quiver around her waist, grabs her bow, and sneaks out.

The cold immediately hits her like loads of needles sticking her over and over again. She soldiers through it. Thankfully, the journey isn't a long one.

Your home is dark. The curtains are drawn. At such as late hour, that's to be expected, though.

Your horse is gone, the door to its stable left ajar.

Spots of blood mark your small porch. Your blood. Cassandra would recognize it anywhere. Not a good sign.

After the time that's passed, no other clues remain. A dead end. Hm.

Cassandra marches over to the house across from yours and pounds on the door.

It takes a few minutes, but someone eventually comes and opens it a crack. "Who's there...?" As soon as the villager sees the tall, dark figure on their doorstep, they immediately begin to close it.

Cassandra slams her open palm against the wood, stopping them short and promptly forcing her way inside.

The villager stumbles back. She grabs a fistful of their sweater before they hit the floor. "Tell me about the home across from you. What happened to the human who lives there?"

"A-a monster attacked weeks ago!"

"A Lycan?"

The villager only stares up at Cassandra, eyes wide with fear. She then remembers that villagers don't call them that.

"Was it man-like?" She joggles them. "Describe it!"

"N-no, it had the body of a large wolf and-and the face of a human. I've never seen anything like it before!"

A Vârcolac? Cassandra has yet to encounter one of those. They're a recent (accidental) creation of Moreau's.

Hopefully, it didn't kill you. You can defend yourself. Since you tend to go out in the very late hours of the night (which is how Cassandra met you), she went out of her way to make sure of that.

Perhaps after being injured, you took shelter elsewhere. Perhaps you're still recovering.

"And where did both of them go?"

"Ran off into woods!" The villager points to the area in question.

Cassandra releases them and walks off.

She heads straight for the trees. 

She isn't going home until she finds you.

She's still formulating more theories when she hears rapid, heavy footfalls approaching. 

Cassandra whips around and draws her bow.

The beast coming towards her matches the description that the villager gave her.

She probably shouldn't stick around for this. Not in her current state. The cold has rendered her movements stiff and near clumsy. She can't turn into her swarm. She's setting herself up for a potentially nasty injury.

But she's also setting herself up for her first Vârcolac kill, and this could potentially be the same one that attacked you.

The arrow strikes the Vârcolac.

Its fast. 

Its agile. 

Cassandra tries to keep her distance from its claws and teeth, firing off more arrows whenever there’s a window of opportunity. 

She manages to get a few nasty gashes on her arm and thigh, but she's fine otherwise.

Now reminiscent of a pincushion, the Vârcolac collapses on its side and crystalizes. Dead. Just like that.

Cassandra lowers her bow and approaches the remains. 

In the chunks of crystalized Vârcolac flesh, bones, arrows, and shredded fabric that used to be clothes lies a silver chain. Close to the base of the skull.

Cassandra freezes in her tracks.

She recognizes the pendant attached to it. She made it for you.

Hoping that her eyes are playing tricks on her in the low light, Cassandra drops to her knees and hurriedly picks the item up.

"No."

This is your necklace!

"No, this can't be..."

The chain could have just gotten caught in the beast’s fur. Maybe this isn't you. It can’t be you. 

But, upon closer inspection, although beyond dirty and nearly amorphous, the scraps of fabric are vaguely reminiscent of things Cassandra has seen you wear before.

...This Vârcolac is you. Was you.

And now, Cassandra has...

She...

She tries to control her breathing, which is growing increasingly unsteady.

Keep it together.

Deeps breaths.

With the necklace still in her grasp, Cassandra rises to her feet.

A harsh cry tears its way from her throat, more reminiscent of a wounded animal than anything else.

She hardly remembers half of her trip back to the castle. It’s nothing but a blur. 

She doesn't even feel as though she's piloting her own body anymore.

It's nearly dawn when she finally makes it back inside.

"Where have you been?" Great. Bela noticed her absence. Just what she needs. "It's still winter, Cassandra. You could have died out there!"

"Save it for someone who cares," Cassandra hisses.

"What's your problem?" Ignore her. Ignore her. Keep walking. Keep it together. "What was so important that you had to go out? Will you stop—"

"Don't touch me!" she snaps, throwing her sister's hand off her shoulder. "It doesn't matter where I went, what I did, or what I saw! And even if it did, it's none of your concern!"

There's a tense pause.

This time, when Cassandra continues on, Bela does not follow.

The maid staff is lucky that none of them encounter the middle daughter as she heads for her room, for she would slaughter all of them on the spot.

Upon reaching her destination, she slams the door shut.

She rips her cloak off.

She throws her weapons to the floor.

And then, she gently sets down the makeshift bag she fashioned from the scraps of your clothes. Your bones rattle.

...Cassandra doesn't know why she brought your bones back.

Sure, it's not unusual for her to take them. She has plenty around her room. But those... Those are like trophies and souvenirs.

And this... This is you.

Cassandra supposes she just couldn't find it in herself to leave you. Parts of you, since the crystals and bones are all that remain.

This isn't reversible.

You are gone.

She will never get to see your smile again.

Never get to hear your laugh.

Never get to listen to your stories or dreadful jokes.

Never get to write you another letter or read yours.

Never get to hold you close.

Never get to take in your scent.

Never get to listen to your heartbeat.

Never get to truly spend time in your presence again.

With your necklace still in her grasp, Cassandra slumps back against the door and slides down it until she's on the floor. She draws her knees up to her chest.

It's fine. This is all fine.

You were nothing but a pet. A pet. She has had more than a few of those before.

You were nothing special.

You weren't.

Or at least, that's what Cassandra's going to keep telling herself.

She’s not going to completely breakdown.

She’s not going to cry. 

That’s what she’s going to keep telling herself.

[shieldofiron]

AAAAHHHHH

what about Big! Billy that is also a hidden omega- and dom tiny alpha Steve finds out when billy goes into heat- and like billy is feral as hell and very protective over Steve afterwards while Steve is like

“Awe look at my big wolf man 🥺”

I swear, A/B/O is in the air! It’s on everyone’s mind! This one’s fluffy and not SUPER Smutty but... I mean... still dirty come on look at the ask.

Billy was sort of drifting in and out. He would come to with Harrington over him, Billy’s back sliding against the makeshift nest of school towels, his body pulled taut with desire. It seemed like every single atom and piece of his body would ache out for Steve, pulsing like a heartbeat, and then he would fade away and come to with his arms wrapped around Steve, pressing their foreheads together and murmuring sweet nonsense.

It wasn't like he planned it. They'd been the last in the shower, and Harrington had been lingering under the spray. His back had been to Billy, and Billy might have started daydreaming, looking at the taut muscles of Steve's back, his high tight ass. No one at school knew that Billy was an omega, he took the highest dose of blockers possible for his size. And his size was a lot. So he was normally tranq-ed up so bad he couldn't smell a thing. But in the shower, with the hot steam opening up his sinuses, Harrington's lithe, perfect body could fill the space with his scent and Billy wouldn’t complain.

He rubbed soap across his chest for what could be the third time and wondered idly if Steve could smell him here. Billy was so turned on he could nearly smell it too, though that was probably just the daydream. Everything seemed to be in slow motion, lazy and soft and slow.

Harrington turning too, was in slow motion, hazy with steam. He said something, but no words came out, just like a daydream. He really was alarmingly pretty, all flushed, his brows drawn up in concern.

Concern. Why would he be concerned?

The room has seemed to tip sideways and then he was being held awkwardly in Steve's arms, half held up by the wall. His legs felt like jelly, but it was fine because Steve was here soclosesoclose.

Harrington's pretty pink mouth was opening and closing but it took Billy several moments before he could bring himself around.

"...Heat?" Harrington asked, "Hargrove, are you okay? Smells like someone’s going into heat."

Harrington's smell, like mint and freshly picked oranges, swirled into Billy's head and sent a wave of pleasurepainpleasureohfuckfuck. Harrington was surprisingly strong for a shorter guy, never was that more evident than when Billy's knees nearly gave out under him.

Strong. Such a strong alpha. And pretty, he would give us such pretty...

"My dad," Billy slurred, "My dad's gonna kill me."

Harrington just frowned harder, "Hargrove... are you an omega?"

Billy tried to get his feet under him, "You can't t-tell..."

Harrington was leaning in, inhaling with that strong sloped nose, "Hargrove you're going into heat?"

"C-can't be. I'm on... like 900 milligrams a day."

Harrington hissed, "That's a lot."

"I need 'm," He blinked slowly, "I can't... can't go into heat."

"Well you... are so," Harrington blinked those pretty Bambi eyes up at him.

Billy sucked in a breath of Steve Harrington's signature air, trying to ignore the way the scent was filling his mind with contradictory statements. Things like that he needed to make a nest, and he needed to beg Harrington to stay, and he needed condoms because if he had a pup his dad would kill him, and also Harrington wouldn't want his pups, but also Billy neededneededneeded Harrington to fill him with pups he needed it.

His head was spinning.

"I can't... I can't Harrington," Billy clung, not even caring that he was saying he couldn't while his body was definitely telling him he could, needed to, needed so badly.

"Look, it will be okay," Harrington blinked, slicking his hair back from his forehead, "I'll help. It'll be over in just a few hours, okay."

Billy whimpered. He should protest but his body was making it hard to remember why through the fog of Steve and the almost painful, cramping need that rushed through him.

“Come on,” Steve started to tug a little, “let’s get you dry.”

Dry wasn’t really a possibility any more, Billy could feel the slick dripping between his legs. He exhaled, leaning into Steve’s hold, while still feeling like he might crush him.

“Y-you’re stronger than you look,” He whispered, not sure if he meant it as a come on or not.

“And you’re burning up,” Steve pressed a cool hand to Billy’s forehead and Billy nearly whimpered again, biting his lip hard to keep it in. Steve probably just meant to hold Billy through the heat, soothe it a little. Billy should keep his feelings about that to himself.

But that’s not what happens. Steve towels Billy off carefully once he sits him on a bench, leaning down and brushing Billy’s forehead with one wet lock of his hair.

Steve slung the towel over Billy’s shoulders, “It’s a good thing you can sit, I’m not sure I would be able to reach otherwise.”

“You... yeah... short stuff,” Billy had a come back in him somewhere. Only it was taking everything in him not to squirm against the hard bench. He could feel himself get impossibly slicker, but he couldn’t let it show. Harrington knew what a heat was, no need to rub it in.

“I gotta lock the door,” Steve rubbed the towel across Billy’s neck, “Okay?”

“Yea, okay, ‘s fine,” Billy locked all his muscles, trying not to lean into Harrington’s touch, “You can go too. As long as no one can get in, I’ll be s-safe.”

Brown eyes just lingered, “I may... I feel like I’m close to a rut. I shouldn’t be out there with...”

Everyone. Yeah. There was a reason why that was a bad idea, but all Billy could think was alpha’s going to stay alpha needs like me needsneedsneeds me.

Billy couldn’t hide the little whimper that trickled out of his throat.

“Is it okay? If it’s me?” Harrington asked.

Billy just blinked at him, trying to comprehend his good fortune.

“It’s okay right?” Steve reached out and touched Billy’s jaw with the tip of his index finger, “Billy?”

He didn’t mean to. But Steve was just there, and so sweet and so... hot. Billy tugged him closer and wrapped his arms around Steve almost roughly, pulling him into a a sloppy kiss that had Billy groaning. His head was filled with steam and Steve and slippery sensations of sliding towards something else. Something wonderful.

Steve pulled back, his eyes still closed, and Billy took the moment to just look at him. Even if it was just once, he had kissed-

Steve straddled Billy, hands going everywhere, teeth biting into Billy’s lower lip. He nearly growled, setting his hands everywhere he could reach.

Someone pounded on the door, and they ignored them, grabbing hard wherever they could. Billy finally, finally, got his hands on Steve’s high ass and groaned, feeling himself towed under by another wave of lust.

The pounding, and not the kind of pounding Billy was looking for, only got louder.

Finally, when Billy couldn’t take it any more, He lifted Steve by his beautiful ass and walked over to the door.

“Fuck. Off,” Billy snarled.

“Hargrove? Is Harrington in there-” It was coach’s voice and that almost snapped Billy out of his haze.

“I said, fuck off,” Billy hissed, “Alpha shit, coach. Door’s locked for a reason.”

Billy could hear shoes shuffling on the other side of the door and maybe coach was saying something... But Harrington was running one of his pretty long fingers along the side of Billy’s face.

“Aww, look at my big bad wolf,” Steve leaned in and nipped at Billy’s earlobe, catching Billy’s smaller gold earring between his teeth, “What big ears you have.”

“Shut up,” Billy could feel his ears turning red instantly. He rolled his shoulder, trying to brush Harrington off without dropping him.

Harrington kissed the tips of his ears, “And what soft hair you have.”

He ran his fingers through the nape of Billy’s neck and Billy whimpered, pressing them against the door.

“What warm skin you have Billy,” Steve nuzzled their cheeks together, grinding against Billy with the new leverage they had.

“The better to burn you,” Billy snorted.

“The better to burn you, alpha,” Steve corrected. He ground against Billy, their cocks leaking a little against Billy’s stomach, pumping the air with Steve’s scent.

Billy could only whimper in response, and it echoed off the locker doors.

“What strong arms you have, Billy,” Steve bounced just a little, setting every point of contact on fire.

“The better to hold you with, alpha,” Billy meant the last word to come out sarcastically, but of course it didn’t not while he neededneededneeded to hold Steve close. Needed to be his, his, always his.

“And what a nice, big,” Steve leaned in and kissed his mouth, once, than again, and again, “Heart.”

“T-the better to uh...” Billy’s thoughts scattered. Maybe it was an innuendo. Maybe he meant Billy’s cock. Maybe.

“Go on,” Harrington prompted, “The better to love you with, alpha.”

Maybe this was some sort of heat thing he didn’t know about. Billy’d never been with anyone through his heat he always just sort of gone through it alone, in a haze with his room locked tight from the other side. Maybe this was what always happened, people pretended to be in love or something.

“I noticed you watching, Billy,” Harrington kissed his cheek, “Don’t over think it. I’ll take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Billy said shakily, though there was a relief in the way the order was phrased. Soft, with a question. Billy liked soft with a question.

Harrington smiled then, his eyes going darker as he watched Billy’s face.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, alpha,” Billy murmurered.

---

@hickory-smoked-ass they wanted to be all lovey dovey I couldn’t help it.

[leffee]

opinion on each season of the show and each of its plots? stuff like the expo, pet fest, and pet street. unless you’ve already posted something like that

Ohohoh seasons, huh? No, I have not posted anything like that yet. Good that I rewatch this show all the time so I remember a lot. I will do a ranking if you don't mind~ from my least favourite to my favourite season and talk about the "plots" there as well:

4. Season 1 is definitely my least favourite, but like, I still love it dearly, just out of the four I love it the least amount. I just find many of the first episodes pretty boring, just kinda nothing happens in them or at least nothing appealing to me. The songs are also hit or miss, there are a few bangers in there like Humanarian and of course Wolf-i-fied but a lot of the others are just kinda "eh". I said it before and I'll say it again, this show to me has no bad songs, but there are definitely some I enjoy less than others and this season has a lot of them. Like many things it has some "first season weirdness", or just things that didn't appear ever again. An example? This sign on Blyhte's room's door, it's from 1st episode and I'm quite sure it never appeared after that

Also characters' eyes were drawn a bit differently and many other things that I won't mention because this reply would be 10 pages long. But! It also has a lot of episodes when there wasn't exactly main emphasis on just one pet but all 7 of them (sometimes less) were doing stuff together, and those are by far my favourite kinds of episodes. Also bonus points for that Vinnie's voice I mentioned a few days ago, his voice in season 1 was different and I liked it more, another bonus for having quite a few good Vinnie episodes. Another plus for the fact that I think Vinnie and Sunil weren't potrayed as best friends yet (It's actually hard to determine, but I think the writers didn't intend to make them best friends then, my personal theory is that they only decided that those two would be best friends after releasing "Door-Jammed"). Again, I love them together of course, but I crave Vinnie interactions with others too and after that he was with Sunil basically all the time.

But you know how I know for sure it's my least favourite season? Because when I rewatch lps I always leave it for last, unless I'm going by the order of episodes. Plus it has my sleep paralysis demon Minka, look at her

Terryfying.

And last thing - "plot". Well, this season didn't really have an overarching plot, but since we're talking about like last episodes that the season is building up to, I personally really like the last episode of 1st season. As I said, I like when an episode doesn't exactly super focuses on just one character but everybody has something to do.

3. Season 4 - on one hand it has some banger episodes but on the other there are some that I don't really rewatch until I rewatched everything else (aside from season 1). It also had this weird distinct feeling to it? It was lps for sure, but it felt different than previous seasons, it's hard to explain, sometimes it was a good thing, sometimes a bad one. It had some banger songs though with my favourite being Hearty Time Pet Food Jingle the one that Zoe, Sunil, Vinnie and Penny sung, absolute banger!! It actually doesn't have any songs that I feel "meh" about, they range from "good" to "absolute banger" Now that I think about it the reason why this season felt different might be because there were a lot of quest pets, seriously, they were in like every other episode.

But what really brings this season down to 3rd place is the finale. Again, I liked it, but man, it felt wrong that the pets were separated for the finale. Genuinely, they all should have went on that plane with Blythe, you can't just separate them like that :( not for the last episode ever. Yeah, opening a whole street was grander than the Pet Fest or Pet Fashion Expo, and good for Mrs. T :), but really, the pets not being all together is just all kinds of wrong. Of course, it was also the last ever episode and yes, yes I cried when watching it for the first time and then when rematching it a few more times ;-;. Overall my least favorite of the season finale episodes. It did bless me with cat-boy Vinnie though, so that's good :} oh and that expression, priceless!

Oh and one more thing worth noticing. Thank fuck they didn't add a new pet as a regular day-camper, I would have hated if this happened. I have no problem with new guest pets, but a new pet main character? Oh hell no, there's 7 of them and 7 of them shall remain. They might have done it, but they haven't, and thank the stars for that.

What's really important here is that it was the season that finished lps and that's just thw biggest crime.

2. Now this is really hard to choose because I really really like both season 2 and 3, the difference is really small, but I think I will go with season 3 as second best. Well, what's not to like? It doesn't have season 4 off-feeling yet but it has season 1 vibe, just better. It has so many great episodes, either because they follow my beloved "all characters do something together and there's not much emphasis on just one of them" formula, but also because it has some great episodes when Vinnie is one of the main characters (Sleeper, Two Pets for Two Pests [oh my beloved], as well as kinda Why Can’t We Be Friends?, The Very Littlest Pet Shop, Hamster Hoods). And the songs, the songs! I'd say season 4 has overall better ones but season 3 has many good ones as well like Hangin' by a Thread - the underappreciated masterpiece. I know we all think about Wolf-i-fied when thinking of Vinnie and Sunil duet and sure, nothing beats it, but hangin' by a thread is so so good too, pls.

As for the pet fest? Yeah, it was pretty good, I do like that it had some sort of build-up, that's not something I need but it sure is cool to do so.

Oh oh this season also had the episode where Youngmee (<3) discovered that Blythe can talk to pets, which in my opinion was pretty epic, grounded because all in all it's just a normal world, and yet still kinda awesome. I actually really like this episode. Heck, I think I like all episodes from this season, aside from maybe a few that I'm more "meh" about.

Season 2 my beloved 😩. It has so many good things about it. First of all, it doesn't have many guest pets, nothing against them but overall I prefer just the regular ones. Second of all, it has Sunil's sick day which just deserves an award on its own. And the songs? Oh the songs! I mean, come on, this season might not have wolf-i-fied but it has such masterpieces as Two Times As Cute, Chez Paris, Dance Fu Fighting, Biskit Twins Rhapsody, Cyril McFlip and most importantly All Around The World. My goodness what good songs, I wanna eat them. Yeah, I think this season has more "meh" episodes than season 3, but the good episodes are SO good, I especially love the episodes in which Blythe and the pets fly to other countries, they are all just really good, you know?

And oh my God the finale was the absolute best, this is actually the epioode/s that I usually start rewatching from because I love The Expo Factor so so much. I mean it had Delilah? And a banger song? And nice complex yet not too complicated plot? All pets and Blythe together? Hello? Truly one of the best epiodes this show has ever seen. Not to mention that there was some build-up to it to which is always appreciated.

So here, my thoughts on each season. I could honestly say so much more because you know, each season has 26 episodes, so it's pretty hard to gather them all together for judging, but I tried my best. Speaking of which, if that's something you're interested in I'd be more than happy to talk about whatever episode individually, I mean, it would give me a good reason to rewatch once more (nah, I would do that anyway actually) and share my silly thoughts.

[ravencromwell]

Am back to watching the best! tutor-era show in existence: one Wolf Hall, adapted by the incomparable Peter Straughan because Thomas Cromwell, fundamental gutter-rat who'll fight dirtier than half the bastards in London even know is possible while having a veneer of polished civility is giving me the fiercest Ros Vortalis vibe my GOD. So, I thought I'd share the best fucking exchange from the show which is just Mark Rylance's Cromwell going absolutely fucking feral over dinner with the tiniest provocation over his surrogate dad Cardinal Wolsey. I can't find the YouTube clip, which is an absolute travesty because the dialogue alone will never do Mark's performance justice and any of you who haven't devoured this series find it by any means necessary and then come scream about it with me. But for now, let me show you the ambassadorial dinner no one fucking expected disgraced Tom Cromwell to have the balls to show up at:

[Tom, cool as a cucumber while everyone else freezes in horror since they have absolutely! been gossiping about him]: "Did you want to talk about me, Master More? You can speak while I'm here, I have a thick skin." [Thomas More's inner monologue: oh, fuck the crazy bastard who's been a hired mercenary! of all things! for our enemies the French! showed up oh he's _looking at me oh dear let me wipe the sweat from my brow with this napkin and give the master-class on everything you don't do to lie convincingly]: "No-one was talking of you." [Cromwell: inwardly rolling up sleeves. Oh, this will be fun!]: "Of the Cardinal, then?" [poor. poor host: I will salvage my dinner if it's the last thing I do. I simply must summon my power of manic cheer!] Thomas, this is Monsieur Chapuys, the Emperor's new ambassador here in London. Monsieur Chapuys, my friend, Thomas Cromwell. [poor new ambassador who doesn't understand what's about to happen to his polite society debut]: Enchanted. [after which he makes his evening's first and last mistake, leaning over to Thomas More to chat in Italian: "I have heard of this one. No one knows where he comes from. Like the wandering Jew." [poor bastard's new and dumb and fails to understand Cromwell isn't happy since Wolsey fell unless he eviscerates six people before bed] [Tom inwardly: oh, this is how we're gonna play it?] "I hardly know where I come from, myself. If you want to speak half-secretly, try Greek, Monsieur Chapuys." [host, staring between a gawp-mouthed new ambassador, sulking Thomas More and smug as a pig in shit Tom Cromwell: manic cheer aid me now! Upon which he says to More:] "My friend, you are looking at your herring as if you hate it." [Thomas More, making five-year-olds look like Zen masters of self-control by comparison]: "There's nothing wrong with the herring." [poor host, finally defeated]: "Ah." [More, who cannot let himself keep getting slapped around he's a man of importance I tell you!]: "But of Cardinal Wolsey, I'll say only this -he has brought his fall on himself. He's drawn all to himself - land, money and titles. He's always had a greed for ruling over other men. I think it's a little late to read the Cardinal a lesson in humility. His real friends have read it long ago and been ignored." [Cromwell inwardly: this stopped being fun and became the biggest crock of shit I've ever been priveleged to witness. Fuck civility.] "And you count yourself a real friend, do you? I'll tell him - and by the blood of Christ, Lord Chancellor, he'll find it a consolation as he sits in exile and wonders why you slander him to the King." [Host, genuinely scared they might fight with the butcher knives now and More is a weedy little thing Cromwell could take him without even breaking a sweat oh god what if he dies at my dinner? Because I invited Cromwell Thomas More is second-in-command to the king!] "Gentlemen..." [Cromwell, oblivious, having worked up his full glorious head o' steam]:" No, let's have this straight. Thomas here says, "I'd spend my life in the church, if I had a choice. I'm devoted to things of the spirit. I care nothing for wealth. The world's esteem is nothing to me." So how is it I come back to London and find you've become Lord Chancellor? What's that?" Three beats of aching, glorious silence. "A fucking accident?"

[berserkrs]

jack wolfe, gay, male + he/him ― hey look, it’s neptune waxwing! they’re 27 years old, they’ve lived in shrike heights for one week, and they’re currently working at skin deep in shrike mall. i heard they’re pretty self-deprecating, but i think they’re so erudite at the same time. can they make it out alive?

B A S I C S

Name: Neptune Waxwing

Nickname(s): N, Blue (by his mother)

Pronouns: He/him

Sexuality: Extremely gay

Age: 27

Birthday: February 28th, 1962

Birthplace: Doncaster, England.

Occupation: Tattoo artist at Skin Deep, amateur poet

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Languages: English

Nationality: British

Education: BA in English Literature

B I O G R A P H Y

cw: implied homophobia

Neptune was born to parents whose obsessions lay in the stars. His father is an accomplished Astrophysicist who currently works in the British National Space Centre (BNSC) and his mother has been a life-long academic and Mythologist, working as a professor for several years before retiring to focus on taking care of her brood of five boys. They gave each of their children names that signified their shared passion for the universe, resulting in a collection of names that brought no small amount of teasing from the school children.

Neptune is the youngest and also the black sheep of the family. Although he got along well enough with all of them, he was simply very different. All his siblings were very academic, evidenced by the paths they chose in life. The eldest, Atlas, followed in their father's footsteps, becoming a physicist as well. Aries, the second-eldest, currently works as a professor in Oxford university and dedicates his life to research of Celtic and Norse Mythology. His other two brothers, Draco and Saturn, both became engineers. Despite being surrounded by scientists and academics, all Neptune ever wanted to do was create. Rather than find answers in the universe, his lifelong dream had been to transcend the universe and drown himself in fantasy.

He had always been an avid reader, obsessive over various types of fiction and a lover of poetry. His love for the arts did not stop there, however, as he was always drawn to visual arts as well, captivated by the ability of artists to create new realities with their brushstrokes. Instead of focusing on any subject outside of the arts, Neptune spent his school days doodling and drabbling, always lost in his own thoughts. While his parents were far from unsupportive, the disappointment was still there, hanging over Neptune like a storm cloud. It took a lot of intention for him to remain positive in the face of adversity, but he did. He had to believe in himself and believe that his choices would lead him to a destiny he felt comfortable with.

Despite not being religious, his parents were still traditional when it came to social norms. After all, his father had always worked for the government in some way or another, and his mother was privileged enough to teach in some of the most prestigious and inaccessible institutions. The status quo was all they knew. And so Neptune always felt as though there were parts of him that he needed to hide form them. And so hide, he did.

His parents tended to focus too much on his brothers anyway, happy to tell tall tales to their friends about their accomplishments. And so little Blue as they called him, with his books and his amateur poetry and unfinished novels and modest job as as a tattoo artist, fell to the background. Neptune hid in his own obscurity in hopes that they would never come to learn that he had no interest in the slew of girls his mother introduced him to, nor had he any desire to live a traditional life of any kind.

He was successful in managing to hide his attraction for his own gender for the longest time until his private life was exposed suddenly and without warning. And when it was, loosely stitched ties to his family tore apart at the seams. Unable to deal with the disappointment or the fallout, he ran away, hoping for a new start in a new place. He felt as though his parents would be happier if he were far away, too, since it meant that they could continue to pretend they had a normal, brilliant, nuclear family. Neptune would just be a blip in their perfect universe.

He had settled on Shrike as a result of nothing but pure random selection and because of how easily he had found a job at the mall. He is unaware of what he got himself into by moving to Shrike, and so he begins his life here with nothing but abundant optimism at the possibility of a new start.

W A N T E D  C O N N E C T I O N S

Work buddies

Friends? Mayhaps?

Hookups, successful and unsuccessful are welcome

Artsy acquaintances

Neighbours

[casspurrjoybell-32]

Runaway Wolf - Chapter 21a

*Warning Adult Content*

Kyle Parker

I must have stood in front of Levi’s room for a whole hour before gathering the courage to knock when it suddenly swung open and there he was.

I had been sitting outside in the snow all day contemplating on coming to see him.

The same questions kept going through my mind.

‘What if he didn’t believe me? What if he hated me for leaving him?’

Well, I didn’t intentionally leave.

“Kyle,” he sounded short of breath as he said my name.

I bit my lip nervously before answering.

“Hey.”

I took him in, finally after so long appreciating the beauty about him.

His long brown hair was tousled, his clothes wrinkled.

His amazingly deep brown eyes watched me cautiously.

“How are you? After the crash you’ve been out of it.”

His eyes were down as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

I licked my lips which had gone suddenly dry. 

“I remember,” I whispered to him.

I wanted him to know it was me, that I was back and ready to beg for his forgiveness.

“Oh, well you scared me for a moment there,” he awkwardly laughed rubbing the back of his neck.

I smirked shaking my head and walked forwards causing him to back away from me in surprise.

His intoxicating apple and pine scent wavered up to my nose, rattling my senses.

“No, I mean I remember,” I whispered walking in further in the room absently closing the door behind me, my gaze on Levi the whole time.

“What?” he frowned in confusion.

Reaching out I cupped his face with a gentle caress.

‘Oh my God... his skin was soft,’ I thought as tingles flew through our skin.

“Everything,” I breathed.

His eyes suddenly widened in understanding.

“Kyle?” his voice broke.

This time he looked like he was seeing me for the first time... I nodded.

Tears began to gather in his eyes and my heart began to drop to my feet.

He didn’t want me did he?

He wanted the other Kyle, the one who didn’t treat him like crap, the Kyle who didn’t care about boys or girls.

I sighed about to step back when he caught me by surprise and flew in my arms.

“Oh God. I thought you were gone forever,” he cried in my neck holding me so close it felt like we was trying to blend us together.

“No, I’m right here,” I breathed in his hair and hugged him tighter with the same intensity and relief.

All the memories of thinking I would never see him again, I could do this for hours.

To kiss him for the first time… well I guess I’ve already done that haven’t I?

“I’m so sorry,” I told him.

“I’m so sorry for being such an asshole to you. For treating you like dirt. I wish I could take it all back.”

I pulled back and lifted his chin up to gaze in his watery eyes to let him know my sincerity.

“I really do.”

I was trying to hold back the deep emotions in my tone, fighting against the tears the threatened to come but I felt the burn in my eyes.

We stood there for a full minute staring at each other till he shook his head and stepped back.

“You left me,” his voice was weak and shaky as he went and sat down on the bed.

I stayed on the other side of the room giving him space.

I knew this would come up as much as I dreaded this conversation it needed to be dealt with between us if we were ever going to try and be anything together.

That was if he would take me.

Things needed to be cleared here and now.

“I went out for a walk that day, to clear my head but that was it. I had no intentions of leaving you Levi. I may have not wanted to be with you then but I still wanting to be around you. I needed to know where you were, to know you were safe. I’m drawn to you and nothing, not even my ridiculous homophobia, if you can call it that, was going to stop me.”

He shook his head once more and I got desperate.

I rushed to him and dropped to his feet on my knees looking up at him with franticly.

“You have to believe me. I know I haven’t given you a reason to but I’m telling you the truth,” my breath was coming in gasps as I thought of his rejection.

Just the thought of it hurt so bad I swore my heart was going to break.

“Then, what happened?” his serious brown eyes demanded an answer and I would give it to him.

“I was… taken. Kidnapped.”

It was such a sore painful subject for me but he needed this. I watched his mouth dropped and eyes widen.

“You were what? Are you serious?”

I nodded.

He brought his hand up to his mouth in shock.

I knelt with my head dropped with shame.

I was broken.

I felt emasculated and unworthy of anything, especially Levi.

They took so much for me and I felt empty and dirty.

Undeserving of his concern or love.

“Who?”

I closed my eyes in agony at the memory.

Levi softly lifted my chin up and forced me to look at him.

I was noticing he was the only one I can tolerate any touch from.

“Please don’t tell me…” he stopped as an agonizing expression crossed his face.

“Was it a woman in black leather?”

I paused in bewilderment at his question.

“How?” I whispered.

'How did he know that?'

“Oh, Kyle,” he cried. “No”

He slid in to my lap and wrapped his arms around my neck.

“It wasn’t a dream. Was it?” he spoke barley above a whisper but I heard him clearly.

I frowned.

“You dreamt about me?”

He nodded against my shoulder as a sob tore form his lips and it completely shattered my heart.

'What did he dream about?'

“Was it that bad?”

He tightened his hold around my neck.

“You were hanging from the ceiling by your hands… and she...  you were screaming so much, Kyle,” he cried harder and I squeezed him into me.

There was no way he could know this.

“How do you know about the women in black leather,” I choked with ridiculous fear.

“I met one,” he then pulled away a fraction to look up at me.

I frowned in frozen alarm.

My wolf forced his way up to the surface, his hackles raised in defense to protect our mate.

“Where?” I growled feeling Levi tense against me.

“On the way here. I had to travel with her to get you to safety. Good thing Cyrus was there to keep her in check because she really creeped me out,” he told me shaking his head with a shiver.

'Cyrus? The guy from earlier?'

“What were you doing with him?” it may have come out a bit demanding a possessive but I was just now getting to hold my mate for the first time.

“I ran into him after the car chase. You were dying Kyle and he helped me. He just so happened to have a Syrith with him as his prisoner,” he said.

I widened my eyes in dread.

One of those monsters was so close to my mate?

My wolf growled deeply with a vicious vengeance.

“And where is she now?” I said through clenched teeth.

If I saw another black-leather-clad women ever again I’d tear her fucking head off. 

“I don’t know. We were attacked by hunters last I saw her and she was giving out some serious damage.”

'Oh my God. What has been happened, while I’ve been out?'

“Jesus Levi,”I said, shaking my head in disarray, as I held him tighter to me instinctually.

Sighing I glanced down at his bowed head as he rested it on my shoulder still.

Slowly I untangled him from me and lifted him back on the edge of the bed.

His deep brown eyes stared right back at me with such an intense dark gaze and it did things to me that caused parts of my body to tighten.

“Don’t,” I breathed, my heart racing.

“I can’t help it Kyle, you’re here, you’re back… you’re safe.”

I closed my eyes as his words washed over me.

And I felt a sudden weight lift form my chest as warmth replaced it.

He cared about me.

[carpe-astra]

Alliances

Keven Church

  -there's nothing special about tonight. except a slightly drunken vampirate who'd taken an impulsive sip from a pothead earlier. he's currently wandering the streets of the Red Light district....very close to straddling the border between there and the Northern Slums. the sweaty armpit of the city shared by hookers and crackheads  - D-d-demons arra gals best friend. Oi. Oi.   -he sings lazily beneath his breath  -

Anonymous

  -In the midst of a red lit cityscape, the glint of blue is bizarre and out of place but it doesn't last for very long at all. More bizarre perhaps, is the figure that comes into perfect stride beside the drunken dhampir, matching him step for step in silence.  -

Keven Church

    -he fucking screams  -

T'A FECK ARE YE, CUNTYBITCH!

Anonymous

  -As his scream rings against dirty brick walls, a gloved hand reaches out to clamp over his mouth and muffle the noise. It was likely no one would pay any attention, but there was always a slim risk. The figure pushed at him, trying to force him down into the darker shadows of an alley they were passing, free hand up to put a finger over the snarling wolf's maw of their mask.  -

Keven Church

  -he easily smacks her hand away after they've been swallowed by darkness. drunken, yes. intoxicated by dirty blood, also yes. instinctively unable to protect himself from a small shadowy sneaky lurking freak? never. he takes a quick few steps back in a swaying blur. closer to the harsh line drawn by shadows of an alleyway and the light from a buzzing street lamp. one toe crosses that line as he glares hotly  - Piss off, cunt.

Anonymous

  -Once they're in the allyeway, they stop moving even as he continues. They put their hands up, displaying they aren't holding anything. Moving slowly to grasp the mask, and pull it free. The distortion at the edges of their frame resolve firmly back into reality, and the strange shape of their body becomes more feminine under the long red coat. The mask dangles by their fingers, as the woman shakes out long blonde hair.  -

Alicia Montgomery

I have news for you, and an offer.

Keven Church

  -oh he's holding something already. an empty   tle of dark rum and a toothed combat knife. not yet pointing it at the figure...at her...but staring intently. and just...waiting  - Hah! Knew it.   -NOW he points the knife at her, recognizing that little cherubic face  - Cheap trick frem a cheap whore. Whatcha want? T'a Lasombra's pompous head onna pretty platter?

Alicia Montgomery

I always knew you were smarter than you pretended to be.   -There was a certain intelligence to coming up with all his colorful insults, that if applied elsewhere, would have reaped a great deal. Her attention flickers once to the knife, then dismisses it entirely by fixing on his weathered features.  - I want a great deal more than that. And I have been thinking to myself as of late, just whom might else share a common vision - or might, if that vision was explained.   -The woman's eyes, once upon a time, a dull and empty blue, now fairly glowed with a feverish zealotry.  - You have a problem. And I have a way to fix it.

  -She took a step forward, leaning towards him.  - A way where you won't have to ever run again.

Keven Church

  -he squints at her. 99.99% sure she's just trying to use him for some sexy evil villain plot before deciding he's just dead weight. they always do  - Oi.   -he wiggles the knife at her as she leans closer like a tamarin monkey in its cage looking for a stray french fry to snatch  - Back up. Yer rubbin' t'at stench o' desperation on me.   -his green eyes turn a bit more serious  - Feck ye know about me runnin?

Alicia Montgomery

  -She stopped in place, studying him. Unable to help herself as she took another step in. Extending a single hand towards him.  - I know a great deal. I was there for it, in the beginning. I saw, no, I still see how you twist and turn yourself to keep a step ahead. The others, they don't really understand what that means. But I do. Running to survive. What if I told you that you could stop running. You could put down roots wherever you wanted. Be with someone, or not. All because the Tremere were no more?

Keven Church

Ohhhhh boo. Kiss me arse. Ye talk like a goddamned Bond villain.   -he glowers, jabbing his knife toward her outreached hand just to get his point across that his personal space is not to be crossed. even if he is humoring her for a moment  - So yer big bad plan is t'a take down t'e Giant Ginger an' his magic army? How?

Alicia Montgomery

  -The swipe of the blade nearly goes unnoticed, but the fact he wouldn't take her hand went entirely noticed. Her fingers curl, arm drawing back in to herself.  - I plan to take them all down.   -Bright and burning, before a pause and an abrupt switch. Growing cool and distant.  - What have you heard on the streets about the Kindred community as of late, Keven Church?

Keven Church

Some gettin' burned. Some endin' up on milk cartons. Oldies turnin' tits up.   -he spits to the side  - Fuck 'em.

  -he definitely doesnt like the way she uses his full name. feels a bit too invasive. like a bad doctor getting a little too personal in their rectal exam  -

Alicia Montgomery

Exactly.   -There's a note of pride in her voice. For herself? For him perhaps, for noticing.  - My work. What do you think?   -She hooked the mask to a loop on her coat, reaching out to the grungy wall beside her to knock against it absently.  - I've taken all that a step further even. Experimenting.   -The others had found that safehouse of Nathaniel's, and the bunker beneath. She hadn't expected them to put so many clues together, or for them to dig so deeply into the website to realize the address was real. Or to find the records of what she had been doing. It had to have been Andrew.  Something cold squeezed in her chest, but she gave a rusty laugh.  - Admittedly, it looked dicey in the beginning, but I've been able to take away the... disease that makes them Kindred.

Can you imagine what that might mean for you? And people like you? Like me?

Keven Church

  -he laughs, and not in a fun "ha-ha you're so cute" kinda way  - I t'ink yer feckin' mad.   -he listens, for whatever reason. instead of booking it--cause the devil knows she couldnt keep up if he was quick about it--he hears her out. and just gives her a wtf look  - Sounds stupid. Ye t'ink I'm stupid?

Alicia Montgomery

Why? Why do I sound mad? Why does it sound stupid? Because if I were you, I'd be leaping for the opportunity to make the Tremere human.

Keven Church

Aye. If it works.

If yer not just tryna set me up.

If t'is ain't a trap fer yer favorite wankers I be around at t'at lil club house.

Alicia Montgomery

It does work. If you don't truly don't believe me, ask Dixie. Or better yet, ask Isaac. I tested it directly on Dixie and they've seen the evidence in the video files they managed to dig up.   -Gleaming eyes soaked the sight of the drunken dhampir in.  - I need a partner in this endeavor. One with your skills. Someone who can go in and out of places I cannot, and who can get information I cannot. In exchange, I protect you from the Tremere, and resolve the problem for you entirely by turning Konstantin and his Scourge, human. No powers, no anything. No need for you to run.

Keven Church

  -he squints again. his look of judgmental contemplation lasts a little longer than last time. then he waggles his dagger once more  - How I know yer not just gonna off me after all'a t'is?

Alicia Montgomery

You are not a Kindred, so I have no qualm with you to begin with. But if you have some way of guaranteeing I hold true to my word, I will do it.   -For the second time, she finally looks at the dagger.  -

Keven Church

Hmm. Aye.   -he gestures for her to stick out her hand like before  - Make yer promise.

Alicia Montgomery

  -She extends her hand out to him silently.  -

Keven Church

  -he cuts, no hesitation. a quick, deep cut right across the palm. unless she has some magic to heal it later, its gonna fucking hurt to use it. but he doesnt care  - Sigillum.   -a streak of red passes through his eyes and settles in his pupils for half a second as his own magic, fueled by Vitae, is used to begin a binding spell with her own blood  - Now. Say it. Say what yer gonna promise me.

Alicia Montgomery

  -It's familiar, like when she'd bonded herself with the Tremere. The cut burns, nerves gone numb until she couldn't even flex her fingers had she wanted to. Blood quickly pools, staining the leather of her gloves, dripping between the creases of her fingers and splattering the ground between them. Despite the deep ache, she doesn't flinch. This is nothing in comparison to what she had already suffered. Then she echoes his words to make her promise.  - I will not kill you after everything.

Keven Church

An' yer lil magic trick works. It'll turn em human.   -he says it like he wants her to repeat his words  -

Alicia Montgomery

  -She smiles, a pretty expression with a touch of smugness.  - I also promise that my serum makes Kindred human, and that I will use it on the Tremere.

Keven Church

  -he still doesnt fully believe her on that. at the very least, he doesnt have as much confidence that it'll be as effective as she seems to think it'll be. but...she makes her promise  - Sigillum. Verbum.   -a white hot thread of magic weaves in and out of her wound on the hand, disappearing beneath the leather glove a few times as it metaphorically stitches the oath into her very flesh. doesnt close the cut of course. but with a blip of red, she can feel her own words settle into her bones as the spell is sealed  -

Ye even t'ink bout goin back on t'at promise, yer arm will rot off.   -he smirks. just slightly before it falls  - Sounds familiar...

Alicia Montgomery

  -This draws a hiss from her, taking the stitching of her words into her skin with heat and magick. At the end, she cups her hand, cradling it shut to stem the flow of blood.  - I won't go back on that promise. But remember Keven Church. There is no where you can hide from me. I can be far worse than what you're running from right now. But so long as you do not betray me, and you help me, you'll get what you want.   -Then she frowned.  - Familiar how?

Keven Church

Jus somet'in I heard.   -he whistles, finally taking that one step back. fully into the cheap street light  - Seeya 'round. Partner.   -then he's gone in a flash of vampiric speed. using a little extra Vitae to keep the exit clean  -

Alicia Montgomery

  -Her expression grows reserved, slotting the mask back into place. Lingering there in the alleyway until several minutes had passed, and Keven was long gone. Then she stepped closer to one of the brick walls, tracing a glyph onto the ruddy stone, lines glowing with arcane blue light. When the light faded, left behind was a doorway she stepped into, then it closed behind her. Only a brick wall remaining.  -

[holylulusworld]

Wild mind

Title: Wild mind

Square Filled for @spnabobingo​​​​​ (Round 6): Jasmine/Garlic/Lemon & Onions

Ship: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, John Winchester

Rating: Mature

Summary: New to John’s pack you try to impress his eldest son. He doesn’t seem to be interested…

Warnings: angst, language, shy reader, mentions of shifting, pack dynamics, true mates, soul mates, scenting, fluff, cuddling & snuggling, courting

Word Count: 2,1 k

A/N: This is the alternative version to: Run Free

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​​​​​

2021 SPN A/B/O BINGO masterlist

You don’t know why, but since you joined John Winchester’s pack three months ago, your omega is drawn toward his eldest son.

With a food container in your arms, you walk toward the cabin, steeling yourself to talk to him today.

“You can do this, Y/N. You’re an omega, a nice one and he’s lucky to get you,” you recall the mantra Ruby taught you a few weeks ago. “He’s only a man and loves food. Go and get him, little wolf.”

Now you sneak toward his home ready to court for the alpha you want. “Do it, Y/N.” you stand in front of his door, mind racing and body shaking in anticipation.

You can hear voices come from inside and you freeze when you hear the alpha of the pack scold his son.

“Dean, she is courting for you. One day, you must give her an answer, son,” John tuts, smirking when his son glances at the socks you knitted for him. “The girl knitted, cooked, and baked for you. She wants to become your omega, and she’s a good choice.”

“Sir, she brought me pie, food, and knitted a scarf to impress you, not me. I will not mate that girl,” Dean says and all your hope dies. You glance at the food container with teary eyes. “Y/N will not become my mate.”

“DEAN!” you don’t want to hear the rest of the conversation, so you turn around, release a shuddery breath and a pained whine before you step away from the door to walk back to your cabin.

“Oh, Y/N! Food for Dean again?” Sam gives you a warm smile whilst his eyes are glued to the meal you prepared for his brother. “I wish someone would cook food for me.”

“Y-you can have it,” you push the food container into Sam’s hands. “I don’t need it anymore. Maybe you’ll like it. If not, just throw it away.”

“Why don’t you give it to Dean this time?” the younger brother worriedly watches you slump into yourself. You sigh deeply, and he knows, his brother must’ve fucked up big time.

“He doesn’t want me, Sam. I was a fool to believe courting for Dean was the right thing to do. What was I thinking?” you run off without giving Sam a chance to say something to soothe you.

“Uh—looks good, Sammy,” Dean licks his lips when his brother opens the food container. “Damn me, did Ruby finally learn how to cook for you?”

“Y/N made this,” Sam mutters. “She gave it to me after the shit you pulled. How could you tell her you don’t want her?”

“Y/N only wants to court for me to impress the packs’ alpha. An omega like her would never be interested in me. Look at her, she’s smart and beautiful. Why would she want a notorious loner like me?” the elder brother complains whilst his eyes drift back toward your food. “Gimme that food! It’s mine.”

“You are too stubborn and blind to see what’s right in front of you, Dean. Y/N doesn’t want to impress me, son,” John raises his voice to make his leadership known. “Do not reject her out of stubbornness.”

“I’m not stubborn,” Dean sniff at your food, inhales its scent and yours deeply. “I should at least have a taste. Don’t you think, Sammy?”

“That food looks damn good. Shit, I wish your mother would make me steak, beans, and mashed potatoes. She only makes green rubbish or orders food,” the alpha steps closer to the food box, mouthwatering at the sight in front of him. 

“Mine,” Dean snarls, ready to defend the food you made for him. He glares at his father, followed by a dirty look in Sam’s direction. “I dare you to even sniff at my food.”

“Son, you can have her food every day if you get your shit together and court for her,” John steals a bean before he turns to leave. “Don’t be a fool, Dean.”

“…and some pain killers,” you point toward a shelf. Nervously glancing around the pharmacy, you hope none of your pack is around. You are about to break a rule and don’t want anyone to tell the alpha about it.

“Y/N, good to see you this morning. I wanted to talk to you about the full moon,” John’s eyes darken when you try to hide the suppressants in your hands. “I never thought you would be the one breaking my rules. Y/N, taking suppressants will make you slower and shifting will become more difficult and painful.”

“I—I’ve got no choice, alpha,” you whimper when John steps closer to you to take the suppressants out of your hands. “I had hoped an alpha will help me through my next heat, but no one wants me and...” 

“This is about what Dean said, isn’t it?” John questions, surveying your reaction. “My son, he’s a grumpy fool when it comes to omegas. Don’t give up, doll. He needs a bit more time but he loves your food. Now go back home and I will talk to my son again.”

“It’s fine,” you wave John off. “If he’s not interested, I will try to find another alpha. I just need a break from courting. Cooking all night for an alpha rejecting you is exhausting.”

“Finally,” you shriek, shopping bags dropping to the floor when you see someone sit in your old armchair. “I thought you’ll never come home from your shopping tour.”

“I had to buy—” you frown, realizing you do not owe the alpha invading your home only to sit in your armchair, legs crossed, fingers impatiently tapping his knee an explanation. “Wait, I do not owe you an explanation. What are you doing in here?”

“You didn’t bring me food for three days,” Dean grumbles. “I’m used to your food, you enchanted me with its taste. Now I can’t eat anything else. You made me addicted to your food and now I’m on cold turkey.”

“I heard what you said,” you crouch down to check on your shopping bags. “Why would I bring you food if you don’t want me to court for you? I can’t waste my time on you.”

“Omega, I’m hungry,” he slowly gets up from the armchair to help you pick up the shopping bags. “UH—you could make me another pie…please.”

“I bet the omega you will choose can cook for you all day. I got a job and don’t have time to stay up late to cook for you!” Dean picks the shopping bags up, smirking when you give him a dirty look. “Hey, can you just not put your scent on everything in here?”

“Sorry, it’s too late to get rid of my scent,” the alpha waltzes into your kitchen to place the shopping bags onto the small kitchen counter. “I rubbed it into your sofa, your cushions, and your blankets.”

“What?” you splutter. “Why would you do things like that, Dean? You don’t want me to court for you.”

“I like your food,” he hastily unpacks your groceries, humming silently. “Steak, chicken, sweets, an interesting combination.”

“The full moon is close and I need more food before I shift. I get hungry like, well, a wolf,” you unpack the second bag, eyes glued to Dean. He checks on every item in the bag, approving you bought more meat. “I can unpack my bags too.”

“No, no. You cooked for me, I’ll help unpack your groceries, sweetheart,” your heart skips a beat, and you stop in your tracks to look at the alpha. Dean just called you sweetheart and acts like it’s nothing special. “Later we will talk about the full moon and shifting together.”

“Together?” you bite the inside of your cheek, chewing on it. “I never shifted with an alpha before. Unmated omegas shift together to make sure no alpha takes advantage of our vulnerable state during shifting.”

“You’re not an unmated omega anymore,” he rounds the kitchen counter to have a look at your second shopping bag. “I’m officially courting for you. Now, what will we cook tonight? Your alpha is hungry.”

Dean stands next to you, eyes glued to your untouched mating gland. “I don’t understand. After all the things you said to your father…”

“Firstly, I don’t like people spying on me, and,” he stands behind you to cage your body between the kitchen counter and his chest, “you should’ve stayed for the rest of the conversation. I told my father that I don’t want you to court for me, as I believed you only want to impress him.”

“I did not want to impress the alpha,” you slam your fist onto the kitchen counter.

Dean doesn’t even flinch, but he smirks at your little outburst. He likes you are hiding your wild side behind a cute and shy façade.

“Hmm…if you did not want to get into my father’s good graces, you can cook and court for me again. I have missed your food, omega. Your poor alpha starved and you left him without food,” he’s pressing his chest to your back to look over your shoulder at the ingredients. “We can cook together too.”

“I—what?” you whimper. Having Dean so close, literally pressed to your body, is too much for you. “I don’t know.”

“Breathe, ‘mega,” the alpha whispers in your ear, hands running up and down your arms. “I will help you with dinner tonight.” His lips press against your mating gland, making you shiver. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Good, isn’t it?” Dean warily watches you take the first bite of the food he made for you. “I used the recipe you stuck to the fridge and added garlic and onions.”

“I taste lemon too, I like it very much,” you moan, savoring the taste. “Why did you come here, Dean? Is your father behind all this? Did he tell you about the suppressants and forced you to change your mind?” 

“Suppressants?” the alpha drops his fork. “My omega will not take suppressants! I will not—no!” he growls low in his throat, eyes three shades darker now. “You’ve got an alpha taking care of your needs now. No more pills or crap.”

“I wanted to be prepared for my next heat. Without a mate, my heat is unbearable. I hate to be in pain,” you glance at Dean, lower lip trapped between your teeth. 

He’s a tall and attractive alpha, his hands look strong enough to keep you safe and pin you to a bed, and his scent makes your body buzz.

“After dinner, we will talk about the full moon and shifting together,” Dean furrows his brows when you do not look at him. “Omega, I was talking to you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to be louder. The alpha seems to be angry about the mentioned suppressants and you don’t want to make him mad.

“Sweetheart, come here,” he puts the food aside to pat his thigh. “I think you need to calm down. Having your true mate around can be a bit overwhelming. Especially if he’s as hot as I am.”

“T-rue mate?” you slowly get up to walk toward Dean. “I felt odd close to you. There’s this warm feeling, and my heart races anytime I get a whiff of your scent.”

“You’re my omega,” he helps you sit on his lap. “Relax and scent me, Y/N. I know you need me to calm you. Just inhale my scent.”

Dean’s closeness calms you this time. His scent fills your senses, and you close your eyes to let his warmth surround you. “Smells good…like home.”

“You always smell like summer rain, jasmine, and fresh-cut grass,” he runs his hands over your back to touch any part of you he can reach. “One day, I almost pounced on you. I was close to my rut, but you just joined our pack, and I didn’t want to mate you in the middle of the street on the ground.”

“That would have been inappropriate and naughty...”

“Y/N, you don’t have to be nervous,” Dean leads you a bit further away from the rest of the pack. “We will shift together, and I’ll stay by your side.” 

“You will be naked,” you giggle, hiding your face in his chest. “Me too.”

“I hope to get a glimpse of your cute ass,” he smirks, eyes roaming your body when you step away to kick your shoes off. “After this full moon, I’m going to mate you.”

“I know,” while Dean begins to strip his shirt off, you are too nervous to strip. “What if you don’t like my wolf? Maybe she’s not—” Dean presses his index finger to your lips, shaking his head.

“You’re mine, my sweet little wolf to devour. I will make you mine, omega. Now,” he leans closer to brush his lips over your ear, “run with me…”

Tags in reblog.

[sunshineistyping]

The Angelic Lair

Use Me

This is a short three-part (roughly) series in which our reader meets a stripper and can't get enough of them!

I might make a few for various characters but for now, just Moon

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

Pairings: Moondrop/Moon x GN!Reader

AU: Stripper AU

Human AU by default

Warnings for Series: Mature themes such as drinking, stripping, Mentions of sex of various kinds, prostitution

(it’s a stripper au but remember, just because someone is a stripper does not make them a prostitute. In this AU, some of them are both.)

———————————————————————

You’re not sure what had compelled you to come to Angelic Lair, perhaps the countless good reviews and recommendations? Was it that you knew one of the bouncers personally? You’re not completely satisfied with either answer. You're pretty sure that regardless of what little lie you came up with, you wouldn't be happy. The truth of the matter was rather simple. You had never been to a strip club and Angelic Lair was one of the best in the country. So why not take advantage of it's presence only an hour away? You weren't sure what you expected when you walked into the main lounge, but glowing golden signs and loud music weren’t on the list.

The room had dark wooden floors, black walls with various golden signage. As you looked around you saw the empty main stage, the two dance cages however were full. They didn't immediately catch your eye so you kept looking. The bars were white marble and stocked with various drinks, and dancers worked the ground floor amongst countless patrons. You assumed they were the dancers based on outfits alone, however, some could very well be scantily clad janitors. You shook your head and immediately made your way to one of the few empty stools at the rightmost bar. The seats themselves were also white, making the two bars pop against the darker room.

“Oh, hey, fresh meat.“ One of the two bartenders lock eyes with you. They make their way over while cleaning a mug, one hand holding a rag.

“O-Oh, you noticed. Yeah I've never been here before, do I really stick out that easily?”

“Not really, I just have a good eye for first-timers. The names Pann by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, uh, do you have any tips for enjoying this kind of scene?”

“Hm,” they pause for a moment and place the mug to the side. The rag being gently flicked over their shoulder in one loose toss.

“Id say just avoid spending your entire paycheck and watch out for Diva, she’ll tear all the money out of your wallet before you even know what hit ya.”

“Diva?”

“Oh yeah, she goes by Diva Wolf. See that girl over there? The one with split-colored hair?” You turn to where the bartender had looked. A tall girl with black and red hair sat flirting with a bunch of guys, drink in hand.

“Yeah?”

“Shes the meanest chick in the building aside from our boss. You really don't want to get on her bad side. That and spending all your money isn't good for you, so steer clear. She has her own little fan club so it's not like she needs the money anyway.”

“Youre not talking about Diva again, are you?”

“Ghost, you heard all that?” The second bartender's eyes were over to the both of you now. 

“Course, now leave the newbie alone. We both know one of the hawks will scout them out soon enough.” They made their way to the other side of the bar. Despite this fact you listened in anyway.

“You think Sun will pick them up first?” You heard Ghost speaking over the loud music. They were far enough away that you really had to strain your ears to pick up anything they said.

“Doubt it, he’s working the VIP stage tonight. Maybe Mist?”

“Bunny never leaves his workroom this late, he’s probably with one of his regulars.”

“Venom? Actually, he’s with someone tonight right?”

“Yeah, him and Heaven got a duo show I think.” Your attention was quickly drawn to the stage as a few lights flickered on, music changing to something more slow and sensual. The air in the entire room changed, people growing closer to the main stage as a man with silver hair walked out. He was awfully pretty with his thick eyeliner and dark blue eyes. His top was of a deep metallic blue color that you could only describe as a crop top. A black corset and latex miniskirt clung to his form as well, both tight and intricately detailed. His platforms were rather large and laced up to about mid-thigh, the color was also black with what looked like silver wings on the back. He also had a thick silver choker with the word ‘Slut’ hanging from it.

You really couldn’t help yourself from staring, he was very much your type and had the same eye candy quality you had been looking for. You felt your cheeks warm as he stopped at the pole, eyes glancing around at his various admirers, and eventually, his eyes met yours. They had this siren-like pull and for a moment he eyed you up. He then winked as he carried on searching the crowd silently, his fingertips dancing against the cold metal as he walked in a slow circle. At last, he fully gripped the pole and swung his body around it with practiced ease. Only then did you tear your eyes away and back to the bar. You ordered a few shots and for a while, you just enjoyed the atmosphere, you’d take occasional glances up at the stage as well. You weren’t drunk just yet but you definitely felt slightly buzzed, the rooms heavy lighting and music helping to keep your energy alive.

“Hey there, I spotted you from the stage. You’re awfully cute so I definitely would’ve recognized you. You’re new here, right?” You turned, your gaze meeting the man who had once been on stage. You hadn’t expected his voice to sound so deep and seductive, his stare and his voice held an unspoken power to everyone who experienced it. There’s no way he didn’t know it. Now that you got a good look at him your heart fluttered even more, he had a deep blue eyeshadow on paired with a clear glittery gloss. It was simple but still made him shine. You’re sure the male strippers aren’t required to wear skirts or anything, perhaps this was just his preference? He looked hot regardless.

“Uh- yeah I am. How could you tell?”

“You’re got an innocence in your gaze not a lot of people in here have. It’s kind of like wearing your heart on your sleeve Darling.” He purred and slid into the seat beside you. You knew that flirting and trying to get private dances were a part of his job but fuck did he do it well. He’d barely talked and you were already considering buying his time out for an hour just to talk alone.

“I completely disagree, my gaze isn’t innocent in the slightest.”

“Oh really?” His eyes fell on yours once again as he gently leaned in. You hung off his every breath as though it would be his last. You have to keep reminding yourself that this is his job. He doesn’t care about anything else but your money.

“Really, I’m just good at seeming pure. Why would I come to this place if I was?” You shrugged and took the last of the shots you ordered. He watched with a lazy and sultry grin on his face, fuck he keeps getting hotter. He had sharp teeth like a vampire and it made your heart flutter wildly.

“Don’t know, why did you come here?”

“For fun.”

“Oh? Did my performance give you what you were looking for?”

“It did, you’re a lovely performer you know. I’m still not sure how you can dance in those things.” You glanced down at his platformers, they had to be at least four inches tall.

“You flatter me, you know there are better ways to...” He trailed off a bit, his manicured finger tracing the rim of your empty shot glass.

“Have fun. You know, aside from watching me dance with all these people around. In fact, why don’t you let me give you a private one.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“First ones free of charge?” He purred, hands on his thighs as he leaned closer. At this point you’re not sure if this was a business strategy or him actually flirting. You didn’t mind it either way, free is free. When it came to how hot this guy is? His ‘free’ may as well be paying you directly. You got more from the agreement of a dance and you both knew that.

“Alright, I’m down.” His grin widened as he slid off the stool. He extended a single hand that you grabbed without hesitation. You allowed him to lead you away from the main room to bring you upstairs to a set of doors. The more he held your hand the more your heart fluttered, it was a little cold but soft. He had no right to have skin this perfect when every other piece of him was just as good. Finally he reached a black door with the word ‘Moon’ written at the top. He opened it and gestured you inside, him following and flicking on the lights behind you. They were like fairy lights that glowed against the dark ceiling. Their was night sky-themed things like the glowing star patterns on the floor everywhere. There was a black canopy bed pushed against the back wall along with a velvety-looking blue chair. On the opposite side of the room was a small stage and a pole. 

“What kind of dance would you like, I can give you anything your heart desires.” He shut the door behind him with a soft click. His grin suddenly felt more mischievous as he walked over, a heavy sway in his hips until he stood in front of you. He looked down at you with those same siren eyes as before. He was going to be the absolute death of you.

“Uh, well, what would you say to a simple conversation?”

“Hm, if that’s what you want. However I do have to let you know, I’ll do anything you ask. There’s no need to be so shy. You can ask for anything Sweetheart, any desire you have. I like to get a little messy anyway.” It’s his job, it’s his job. This is his job. He’s not attracted to you this is just a business strategy. Yet that heavy look in his eyes made you feel unsure. Is he just really good at his job or did he actually think you were attractive? Were you his type in the same way he was yours? Your cheeks grew red, eyes locking themselves to the ground. The man above you let out a little hum.

“You got something specific you want to do to me, huh? That’s alright. Just do me a favor, yeah?” You nodded in acknowledgement at his softer and less prodding tone. He wasn’t analyzing your reactions to look for weakness, he was allowing you to grow relaxed with him in your personal space. Your heart grew warm at the comforting tone he took, a single finger sliding under your chin as he tilted your face up to his.

“Let loose a little, alright? This is for your entertainment.” He got closer, his breath ghosting against the outer shell of your ear.

“Use me.”

Okay so maybe he was flirting.

———————————————————————

[saey707]

Omg may i request (not kda) akali headcanons with s/o please? Fluff pls :)

✿ Prompt: Your relationship with Akali ✿

♡ champion focus: akali ♡ tw: none! ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author’s Note: Hey anon! ૮₍˶Ó﹏Ò ⑅₎ა I'd be happy to write Akali. She's one of my favorite female champions! Hope you enjoy <3

Akali never would have thought she could open her heart up to another person. Being a ninja meant being able to stay free from attachments; Or, at least, that’s the motto she’s always preached. Sure, she's had her fair share of crushes on people in the past, but never to the extent that you managed to make her feel every time she so much as laid eyes on you.

Honestly, Akali was quite hesitant to show the most vulnerable parts of her mind and her heart to you early on in your friendship. But with time, she opened herself up to the possibility of being more than a friend to you. Perhaps a best friend? Someone you can count on to always be there for you?

But friends don't offer to share their ramen with just anyone. They don't press the idea of getting a matching tattoo in Vlonqo ink with you in Weh'le. And they certainly don't imagine what it would be like to just... hold one another after a long day or go somewhere far away from Ionia to just spend a day on the beach with one another.

Further, this relationship would only evolve into something Akali herself didn't understand. A relationship where she wanted to be with you. It freaked her out... And it was only because she didn't want to lose you.

But you always found a way to console her, which made it all the more difficult to push the thoughts she had about you away.

The day the two of you do start dating, Akali discovers she isn't so much a lone wolf as she has always perceived herself!

The rogue found herself enjoying your attention, time, and presence. In fact, she craved every bit of it! How long has it been since she was able to let her guard down and appreciate the gentle caress and comfort from someone she adored?

Hell, Akali certainly wasn't one to push away your cuddles if you insisted on giving them.

And just know the little leaf wasn't going to let the attention go unrequited. Akali knew companionship required balance, and equality in giving and receiving.

Her way of returning affection is showering you with her touches, hands gliding over your skin like a gentle massage, her lips drawn to your skin as she praised your delicate temple.

"You're so beautiful..." "I could do this all day." "Don't be shy~"

Her voice would always speak in a low whisper, hovering over your own before she would finally close the gap between the two of you. And she loved whenever you melted into her touch. She considered it to be a reward.

When the time comes for Akali to part for a personal mission or affair, she is always sure to reassure you she would be back soon.

"Hey, I promise you. I'll be back home before ya know it... And if you could wait just a little long for me, I'll be sure to bring you a souvenir from wherever I go."

Before the assassin parts ways with you this time around, she holds a quaint, wooden box out to you. Inside was a jade stone, tied with a thin red rope. You stared in awe at her as she pulled up her mask and wrapped a hand around her trusty kama.

And as she turned around to get one last look at you, she was sure to draw her calloused fingers up, flashing the matching stone that was tied around her own neck, hiding underneath the hem of her top.

"So I'll always have a part of you with me. Wherever I go and you go."

[sondepoch]

HC: They see MC’s sketchbook!

Art. It’s a private thing. Showing someone your work is akin to showing them a piece of your soul, an insight into who you are and everything that lies within. So when the Obey Me! boys get a glimpse of your sketchbook, they find themselves wanting for more—and all in different ways.

Word Count: 6.0k

*Mild NSFW themes for Asmo & Diavolo

Characters: All Brothers + All Undateables + Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

At the beginning of the year, there is 0 trust between the two of you

Not only has he actively tried to kill you, but he’s already so suspicious of the pacts you’re making with his brothers that he can’t help but be wary every time you cross paths

So when he realizes that you’re always absentmindedly scribbling in a notepad every time you interact, he’s more than a little perturbed by it

100% thinks you’re secretly taking notes on his and his brothers’ behavior to use it against them

So, obviously, when he next sees you using it in his presence, he wastes no time in snatching the notebook from your hands

“Oh hey, Lucif—what are you doing?!”

“Nothing you should be concerned with, human.”

“That’s my sketchbook you’re holding!”

“Sketchbook?”

Instantly flips it open and sure enough, inside there’s nothing but doodles and sketches

luci.is.confuzzled.exe

He’s still convinced that there must be something incriminating in the book, so he continues flipping through it. But the more he sees, the more he realizes how wrong he is

It’s only when he flips to the section with his family that he begins to feel guilty

In the beginning, you just draw basic poses. Mammon, glancing at you over his shoulder. Asmo, posing for a camera. Beel, about to bite down on a hamburger. 

But the further he goes, the more elaborate the sketches get, and as he flips through the pages, he can feel the amount of work that has gone into each piece

And then he gets to the page where you drew him

Keep it lowkey, but he thinks his heart stopped for a second

He stares at the picture and wonders if that’s what you see every time he shifts into his demon form, because for the first time since his fall, he can’t help but think about how beautiful he looks. Everything looks so right in your art style, from the diamond on his forehead to the way his wings flutter out of his back.

It’s perfection

“I’m confiscating this,” He says quickly, not looking you in the eye.

He then escapes the room faster than you’ve ever seen, and never speaks of the incident again to you

But roughly a week later, you find a small red book on your pillow, and you know that it's a sketchbook from him, to replace the one he took

And even later—after the two of you grow close—you find your old sketchbook stored in his most secure drawer, locked away with a key he keeps hidden. And you know that he’s spent hours looking through the book on rough nights, through the doodles of him and his brothers and everything else you’ve ever drawn

And though he’s too proud to admit it, you know he loves your art 

Mammon

He found it when he was going through your stuff, absentmindedly checking to see if you had any valuables on you

And the moment he flipped open to see your little notebook of doodles, his mind went B I N G O 

He loves your art the second he sees it, spending a whole hour just sitting on your bedroom floor, flipping through the pages

Adores everything about your art style

And when he starts to see the little doodles you do of his brothers, he’s even more enraptured

You draw all the things he’s imagined but never seen: a sketch of Lucifer dressed in a onesie, snuggling a giant teddy bear. Beel, using a sleeping Belphie as a food tray for a pile of snacks as large as the sixth-born himself. Asmo with cat ears, being chased by Solomon, who appears to be a wolf.

And yet, there are no pictures of Mammon

Man is hurt by the fact that you’ve drawn all his brothers but not him. He’s your first man, after all. You should have been the first person he drew!

Gets a bit upset about it and throws your sketchbook back into the drawer he found it in, stomping back to his room with childlike indignation

Is just a bit petty about it afterward

“Hey, Mammon, can you walk me to school? Class starts in half an hour.”

“Huh? Oh, so now ya want me to do it, huh? Well, why don’t you ask Asmo instead?”

“Okay? I will???”

Soon everyone in the house has realized that Mammon’s being a bit off, and while it was nice at first to have peace and quiet from the resident troublemaker, you guys grow concerned pretty quick

And eventually, you go to his room to talk things out

Let’s just say that when you found out he’d been going through your stuff, you were not pleased. But seeing that he wasn’t going to be the mature one, you sucked it up and whacked the demon on the back of his head, telling him to “wait a second” while you went to “get something”

Cue the retrieval of your second sketchbook 

And when Mammon sees it, he’s not sure what he feels more of: guilt or happiness

Every single page in this second notebook is of him. Only a few are colored, but Mammon finds himself enraptured by even the casual doodles in the corners, where he’s doing little things like eating a banana or flashing the viewer a few Grimm

Man is touched. He’s never had anyone do this for him, and certainly not out of their own volition. So suffice it to say that when he tackled you for a hug that night, he didn’t let you go for a long time

And maybe some other stuff happened too. Who knows? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Leviathan

TSL

The second Levi sees you sketching in your artbook (after an incoherent stumble of words which you assume are synonymous with praise), the only phrase coming out of this man’s mouth is TSL

Begins begging you to draw fanart of the Shadow Lord, asking you to sketch him in different outfits, draw him in different poses, put him in various backgrounds, etc.

Basically wants you to bring his imagination to life

“Oh! Oh! Can you draw him baking a cake now? Wouldn’t that be so cool?!”

Absolutely does the wwooooooOOOOOAAAHAHHHHHHH sound effect every single time you show him your work, even if you’ve only made minor changes from the last time you showed him

He takes you on a spending spree, pulling up Akuzon and offering to pay for whatever supplies you want if you’ll just make him a super fancy poster

And so you start

It actually gets to be a pretty good way to grow closer: every day, after school, you head up to Levi’s room to work on the poster he asked you to make him. In exchange, he lets you borrow his manga and you guys watch anime together

Eventually, boi gets the idea of throwing Ruri-chan into the poster, and the second he thinks it he won’t shut up about it

“Oh, come on! You can do it—look, just put her in this little corner right here!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Levi?! Ruri-chan and the Shadow Lord are two completely different characters who are meant to be drawn in completely different art styles! If I mush Ruri-chan into the corner, it’ll ruin the poster’s dynamic!”

“But pleeeeeaaaassseeeee?”

Cue extra pouty Levi

Eventually, you agree to make a separate drawing of Ruri-chan for Levi to hang up next to the poster, because you think that otherwise, he’ll go crazy

When the date rolls around where you’re almost done with everything, Levi formally sends out an invitation to everyone of importance

Man invites everyone from Luke to Diavolo over for the “revealing ceremony” where he plans to hang the poster on his wall

Actually tried to get the demon king to come as well, but Lucifer stopped him before he could get an invitation out

When everyone sees what you’ve been working on for so many weeks, they’re all MEGA impressed because hello??? they did not know you were this skilled???

It quickly turns into a competition, with each one of them trying to outdo each other with how vigorously they can compliment you

And soon enough you find yourself swamped with requests from every other demon in the room, begging you to make them something as elaborate as you did Levi

Satan

It’s a system you guys have set up, where every Tuesday and Thursday night, you’ll sit in the common room on the couch facing each other and will simply open your books to do what you will

You always draw, and Satan always reads

And neither will bother the other until the grandfather clock chimes twelve times, whereupon you both bid each other goodnight and wait for the next session where you do it all over

Except for today, that is

“What are you drawing?” 

Ah, there it is

The one question you were hoping Satan would never ask

You subtly (incredibly awkwardly) change the subject, commenting on the color of Satan’s jacket to distract him from his inquiry, and he picks up on the hint, quietly huffing as he turns back to his book 

But the mild irritation he feels doesn’t let him fully delve back into the realm of the nonfiction novel he was reading, so he’s more than a little distracted as he goes back to reading about human anthropology

And it’s in this state of distraction that he notices the little glances you’re stealing every so often, before returning to your sketchpad

Yeah, it doesn’t take long for Satan to put two and two together

“Are you drawing me?”

An incredulous question, asked in such an offending tone

He sounds so irate by the fact that you can’t help but helplessly deny it, muttering something about drawing plants and flowers instead

But Satan doesn’t believe it, and in an instant he’s standing behind you, staring at the sketch in your hands which has oh-so-beautifully captured the essence of him on the couch, engrossed in a book with the light from the flames in the fireplace flickering gently against his skin

The anger at being drawn without having agreed to it quickly melts into a quiet awe for your skill

“Can I see your other drawings?” He asks gently, no longer irritated but actually impressed

“I-I’m not sure if you’ll want to—”

“Nonsense. Show me.”

And so you do

You hand him the sketchbook, avoiding his eyes as he flips to the very first page—and imagine his surprise when he sees that even that is a sketch of his face, though the artwork is significantly less advanced than the piece he just saw. Satan flips to the next page, and then the next, and the next, and sure enough: they’re all of him

“I-I just needed a model to practice my artwork on,” You mumble, gaze fixated on the couch. “And you were right there, so I couldn’t resist...and then I needed a model again. And again. And you were always there, and I know I never asked, but I’m sorry, and if you don’t want me to, I won’t—“

“Nonsense,” Satan murmurs, pressing a finger to your lips. His smile has never looked as sincere as it looks now, his gaze flickering back and forth between your face and the sketchbook in his hands

“I’ll be your model, if you so desire it. Just tell me how you want me to sit.”

Asmodeus

Your model for everything

You’re trying to draw the Hulk and you a good frame of reference? And you need a really muscular model? And Beel ABSOLUTELY fits the bill? 

Yeah no, Asmo’s your model

You want to draw a child? Someone small and short, roughly the exact same height as Luke (who is an ANGEL and would absolutely help you)? Yeah no, Asmo’s still going to be your model.

Want a cute guy? Asmo. Cute girl? Asmo. Cute animal? Still Asmo.

Man refuses to leave you alone - the second he learns that you’re an artist he insists on gracing your work with the holy sight of his body

Highkey wants to model nude

And you’d be lying if you said that he was a bad model—man can hold a pose for hours without moving even a little, his only fault is that he talks incessantly—but you can easily quiet him by saying that you’re drawing his lips - and the moment you do so, he’s suddenly he’s stiller than a statue,  doing his absolute best to remain frozen so that you can capture his perfection

Boi posts 100% of your content on his Devilgram, and while you were hesitant about it at first, now you’re just used to it

Thanks to him, you’re a lowkey celebrity

Like demons love your art style 

It’s apparently very refreshing and human-like as compared to the dark and dreary art found in the Devildom, so people go wild over Asmo’s Devilgram page for it

Man thinks that they’d go even more wild if you drew something where he modeled nude

In fact, it’s lowkey a business deal that the two of you have - you allow Asmo to post your work on his Devilgram (giving credit to you, of course), and in exchange he pays for all your art supplies, acts as your model (though that’s really more of him wanting to than it being your choice), and even goes as far as to keep Mammon apart from you while you work, insisting that you need “privacy” and “quiet” while you draw

100% acts like he isn’t even more chatty than Mammon when given the chance

On the bright side, it’s thanks to these weekly art sessions where you draw and Asmo models and talks that you’re always up to date on the latest gossip. You’re 100% caught up with the fact that Zahhak just found out he has another illegitimate son and that Baphomet just liked Rusalka’s post from fourteen centuries ago

So yeah, the two of you have a mutually beneficial relationship

Asmodeus still insists that one thing would make it better though: him modeling nude

But Asmo is a sweetheart about everything, and he goes out of his way to pamper you 

Specifically, your hands—after all, those are what work your artistic magic!

Expect him to always be peppering your dominant hand with kisses, massaging it whenever you look tired, giving you weekly manicures completely free of charge, all out of the goodness of Asmo’s heart

*ahem* and weekly requests to model nude

Beelzebub

a m a z e m e n t 

Boi is entranced

Like, he’s so mesmerized by your art that he’s not even paying attention to the food sitting right in front of him, simply opting to stare more intently at the drawing you’re holding up so eagerly

It’s quite beautiful, really: The seven demon brothers surrounding you, a reworking of a photograph Lucifer took a few months ago but in your art style. And for that last fact, Beel thinks he likes this version better

“Wow,” He finally manages to say, still too impressed to really think of anything else

He lets his brothers shower you in praise and compliments, silently nodding along and agreeing with every plaudit they thrust your way

But the moment you’re alone, expect to be scooped into his arms and carried to his room

Boi instantly wants to know the process

When do you draw? How long does it take? Where do you do it? How are you getting your supplies? Who pays?

It’s not so much the physical process he’s interested in, but rather the nuances of art that make your work look so you. He’s not interested in learning for the sake of doing, but simply for the sake of understanding because he already appreciates your art so much

Absolutely invites you to his room to have you show him the art process the next time you start working on a piece

And after the first time, then, he invites you back a second - then a third - and then the two of you have settled into a routine where after school, you come to his room and pencil away in your sketchpad, with Beel watching in the background, munching on snacks

It’s quite relaxing for him, actually

He likes watching as you bring a piece together, going over previously flat areas with a second layer of shading to make certain elements pop—and even if he doesn’t completely understand what you’re doing, he’s entirely willing to learn, listening peacefully as you explain what the various tools do

By the end of the month, man has actually memorized all the names of your supplies, handing them to you every time you ask for it - be it something as simple as a request for an eraser or just the blending stump

Lowkey, your work has actually improved since you began working up in Beel’s room

Not only does he have the most comfortable setup, but the man pampers you like royalty, always making sure that there’s water or food for you in case you need something

(And if you do happen to require something that isn’t already in Beel’s room, man will 100% get it for you so that you don’t have to stop what you’re doing)

Honestly, it’s the perfect arrangement: he gives you the ideal working space and you give him hours upon hours of intrigue

And if you happen to begin sitting in his lap one day while you work, something which quickly turns into a pattern, who’s there to stop anything? ;)

Belphegor

Man naps

A lot

And you just happen to be his favorite pillow, so it’s hardly a surprise when all your free time is spent in the presence of a dozing Belphie, always passed out over your legs

So once, just once, you pull your sketchpad out from under your pillow and work on it, a cautious eye trained on the seventh-born’s every move in case he stirs

And when that first time goes smoothly, you pull your sketchpad out a second time

Then a third

Then a fourth - and suddenly, you’re caught in a pattern

It was really just a matter of time until Belphie woke up one day and you didn’t notice

And it’s already too late when the drowsy demon lifts his head, peering curiously onto your lap to see what you’re working on—much to your horror

“Y-you’re awake,” You mutter halfheartedly, a sick feeling settling in your stomach as you watch the demon’s expression shift as he studies your artwork

You hate it

A bubble of anxiety begins to rise, fear over whether he will like your work or call it bad, whether he’ll make fun of your work or tell the brothers, whether he’ll be kind about it or mean

But then, much to your surprise, he flops back onto your lap, utterly unphased

“Nice,” The demon comments casually, stretching as he rests his head along your thigh. “It’s pretty.”

You can only blink as he falls back asleep, utterly confused as to what just happened

He woke up, right? And he saw your art? And he complimented it, telling you that he thought it was nice and pretty?

A sound of disbelief escapes your mouth as you try to process the utter nonchalance with which the whole exchange had concluded with, your shock only interrupted by the light sound of Belphie, who’s already snoring

You groan

But now that Belphie has seen your work, it’s not like there’s much point in hiding it any longer, right?

You pull your sketchbook out, silently continuing to work on the design that the man napping on your lap had said to be “nice,” adding some finishing touches to it 

And when Belphie wakes up, he speaks nothing of the entire exchange

From that point and onward, you become a little more comfortable around him, relieved that you don’t need to talk about it with him

And he gets it

For all your free time, while he naps, you draw, and the two of you find a comfortable form of peace together, an odd tranquility lurking in the fact that there are no questions, no answers, just you and him, the sound of scribbling and snoring, your sketchpad and his pillow

And really, who needs anything else?

Solomon

He’s probably the first one to realize, on his own, that you’re an artist

The two of you have nearly all your classes together, thanks to Lord Diavolo, so it’s hardly surprising when the ever-astute sorcerer picks up on the fact that every time he casts you a second glance, you’re working on some mysterious sketch underneath your desk

Doesn’t really care at first

Until he sees your work

Man actually stops when he picks your sketchbook up off the ground, inspecting the page it had flipped open to after you dropped it

“Holy shit”

Doesn’t even ask for permission, he just begins browsing through the sketchbook, growing more and more impressed with each new page he sees

You only snatch the book back from his hands when you realize that the sketch he’s staring at so intently is one you drew of him, thanking him for picking it up with a huff and awkwardly trying to remove yourself from the situation as fast as humanly (heh, yes that is a pun) possible

Wizard boy stops you, ofc

“Come with me”

“But I have class soon—"

Again, doesn’t even wait for your agreement, man just drags you by the forearm to the library and flips open a book, throws down his own notebook, and demands that you use your “art skills or whatever” to help him

Sigh

Precious wizard boy isn’t very good with words when he’s all worked up

It takes you a good 5 minutes to understand that he wants you to compare the summoning circle outlined on the book with the one he sketched to identify where he went wrong, because apparently you have an “artist’s eye” and therefore you should be able to assist him - and he refuses to believe you when you try to convince him that no, this is not your strong suit and you will likely be unable to help him

He gets whinier than Asmo (probably where he gets it from) and will not stop nagging you even as you try to leave, so eventually you just give in and agree to try to help him - and it wounds up being surprisingly easy for you to realize that he missed the secondary outline of the inner circle, among another few minor mistakes

Huh, maybe you are naturally inclined toward this

From that moment and onward, Solomon decides that you are officially valuable (not only do you have magical potential, but you have an eye for summoning circles too? how UNFAIR) and begins spending all his time with you

Doesn’t really care about the fact that you’re an artist at first—is really more interested in how your skills can be applied

But then one day, after a particularly rough night of going through twelve whole summoning circles for twelve powerful demons, he takes a nap and wakes up to find you passed out on the floor, sleeping on top of your sketchbook where you fell asleep doodling him

Highkey touched

And slowly, he begins casually “falling asleep” around you more often, to see and flip through more of your artwork when he wakes up 

Sigh

Bby is fucking shady even when he does wholesome shit

Simeon

Okay let’s be real

There’s no peace with the seven demon brothers. Solomon is chaotic. Luke, as much as we love him, is just a lot to be around. And even with Barbatos next to him, Diavolo is a walking tornado that tends to wreak havoc whenever he wills it (and he usually wills it).

So honestly, being with Simeon is the only place of tranquility you can find in the entire Devildom

Specifically, his room

*Which is off-limits to all the aforementioned individuals

He extended the invitation for you to spend some “relaxation time” in his quarters whenever you pleased at the beginning of the year, his angelic heart already sensing the absolute whirlwind of disaster you were walking into when you joined RAD

And while you declined his offer immediately out of politeness, you found yourself sheepishly knocking on his door not one week into the program

And now it’s become an every-day sort of thing

So yeah

Simeon knows about your art

In fact, you can’t seem to draw unless you’re in his presence, because at this point, he naturally soothes you so much that your hand is only steady when you hear the sound of his calm breathing in the background

In fact, you work best when the two of you are spread out on his couch, your back resting comfortably on Simeon’s shoulder while he writes (yes, he manually writes all his books on pen and paper) and you put your legs up on the couch, sketching away in your notebook

It’s the very image of peace, something you can’t seem to find anywhere else in this realm

And Simeon, bless his heart, may be a master of calligraphy, but the precious angel cannot draw to save his life - a fact which you have taken it upon yourself to handle

See, the angel gets tired every now and then—understandable, given that he produces literal masterpieces at his hands

And so when he gets tired, what does he do? 

Make incomprehensible doodles in the upper left corners of his papers

So, of course, you’ve taken it upon yourself to bring those doodles to life (even if it requires a half-hour of inspection before you can make out what the sketch was supposed to be) and Simeon loves it

The expression of eagerness that surfaces every time you inform him that you’ve finished a piece is so rewarding, because the childlike glee with which he takes the paper from your hands to inspect it always sends a rush of warmth to your heart as he gushes in appreciation

But uh 

Simeon is a special kind of chaotic, something that manifests every time he doodles something on paper

You stare at the angel in disbelief as he informs you that his latest doodle (what appears to be a banana-looking creature in sunglasses?) was actually a monkey ironing clothes—unsure what to say in light of this information

But it’s okay :) There only needs to be one artist in this relationship, and it clearly isn’t him

Luke

It started with cake

He needed “inspiration” to make something for Barbatos, as a thank-you gift for the pastry lessons the elder gave him, but Luke claimed that everything he made, while it tasted fine, lacked in the aesthetic department

And while normally you would play it Simeon-style, leaving it to the younger angel to handle things on his own so that he can grow individually, you felt too bad watching him discard another batch of cupcakes into Beel’s mouth, rubbing his head in aggravation over how annoying it was that nothing was looking right

So you helped him out

It was nothing major, really

Just eight doodles—subtle yet elegant designs for a triple-tiered cake, childish and bouncy arrangements to store flan, little details in frosting to give cupcakes the added element of specialty that makes them infinitely better

But the second Luke saw your paper, he went wild

Boi was running to the kitchen so fast he barely even had the time to shout “thank you” 

Apparently, your little sketches sparked inspiration in him so strongly that the flames burned til midnight (much to Simeon’s disapproval), but when Luke was finally done with everything, he walked out of the kitchen with a tray of desserts that looked so perfect it was hard to imagine that he brought them to life from your sketches

Luke spent ages thanking you, shoving desserts down your throat even when you insisted that you were full, so unimaginably grateful that you helped him out of what he called “chef’s block”

Each “thank you” was accompanied either a brownie or a slice of mango mousse or whatever new pastry Luke was creating that day, and before long you were getting to enjoy luxury foods on the daily (much to Beel’s jealousy)

Boy only believed that the debt was paid when you told him that there was no debt to pay, that you sketched those quick little doodles for him out of kindness and not obligation

Believe it or not, Luke’s eyes actually welled with tears for a second at that, before he wrapped you up in a giant (is it really giant if the hugger is so little?) hug, wailing something about you being too “pure” and “perfect” for the Devildom, and that one day you would be very happy in the Celestial Realm

You pat his head, telling him that if it truly made him this happy, you would be glad to help him out again and sketch some food doodles whenever he wanted some new ideas

Cue another round of hugs, muffled crying, and sobs about how amazing you are

Barbatos

Barbatos knew, of course

Not because he used his powers or anything, he would hardly use them for something so trivial, but he was aware from the start that you were an artist because it was he who prepared for your arrival in the Devildom, ensuring that you had all the same amenities and comforts you were used to in the human realm

And, as such, that included art supplies

So the very moment he set his eyes on you, he was aware that you were an artist

What he didn’t expect was for you to actually be good at it

He sees your sketchbook when he’s casually strolling through the RAD library, finding you completely knocked out on one of the tables, the spiral binding of the sketchpad still digging indents into your cheek where you lie on top of it

At first, the butler rearranges your position as a courtesy

He lifts your head and rests it on your hand - which makes a much softer pillow -  coincidentally placing your books back inside your bag and taking a moment to organize the papers strewn across the desk

But then he just happens to glance inside

And the second he does, he’s mesmerized

There’s not much in the world that can surprise Barbatos - not after he’s looked after Diavolo, of all people, for so many millennia - but the butler still finds himself holding his breath as he flips through your sketchpad, each piece telling a story so evocative that it leaves him wanting more even when he arrives at a blank page, abruptly realizing that he’s just gone through your entire sketchbook without your permission

Of course, you just have to wake up at that precise moment - sleepy eyes glancing up at the butler and wondering if you’re hallucinating, but the book in his hands is far too real and the shocked expression on his face is impossibly jarring and you flinch, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you realize what must have happened

Barbatos is a perfect gentleman about it, kindly telling you to get more rest so that you don’t pass out in a public library surrounded by demons who want to eat your soul, but he ends the sharp warning with a rather kind remark about your artwork

“I liked the second-last piece best,” He murmurs, casting you a cryptic smile before bidding you farewell

And obviously, the moment he’s out of sight, your nose is buried in your sketchbook, fingers flipping furiously to find the second-last piece you drew which you cannot seem to remember at all, and—

Oh

A flush immediately erupts on your cheeks as you see the colored sketch, something inspired by nothing more than a whim

It’s simply two people on a walk—both of them vague imitations of what your mind had wistfully conjured up—one of them bearing the telltale mismatched hair and olive green eyes, the other sharing a quiet resemblance to yourself - a conscious decision, of course

But just as you’re about to flip off the page, another detail you’d forgotten about draws your attention—and your cheeks suddenly burn in embarrassment as you realize why Barbatos singled this piece out

The figures are smiling, gazing at each other from the corners of their eyes. And there, in the very center of the piece, it is obvious: 

They are holding hands

Diavolo

RIP to Diavolo’s royal painter

They have been replaced

By you

As much as you fought it, as much as you argued that you were not fitting of this position, as much as you pleaded with the demon lord to not force this title upon your shoulders, Diavolo’s decision to appoint you as the honorary Devildom painter was final—and nothing can change his mind once it’s made up

The title is really just that: a title. Diavolo knows that you’re a busy student, and while he honored your artistic talents with this position, he’s not about to actually force you through the expected proceedings of a true royal painter, not while you’re trying to survive being an exchange student in hell with an entirely unfamiliar curriculum in front of you

But on occasion, he’ll send you a text, asking if you’re free

And you’ll head on over to his palace, ready to paint him

And unlike every other demon, angel, and human in the Devildom, when Diavolo models for you, he actually models nude

Asmo is jealous

Sexual tension is high when you paint him, let’s just leave things at that

And honestly, it really doesn’t matter what you paint - Diavolo seems to be more interested in the fact that it’s a human who did the art in the first place

He once saw your RAD binder, noticing the little doodles you’d drawn on the corner of all your papers, and he immediately took them—declaring that they were art to be preserved for all eternity for historical documentation purposes

So yeah

There’s a hall in Diavolo’s palace filled with your RAD math homework, an eternal reminder of the assignments you copied off of Solomon

(You’re not sure what’s more embarrassing: the fact that you’ve drawn some rather inappropriate doodles on those pages or the fact that, despite having copied all the answers, you still managed to get nearly one-third of the problems wrong, and now your mistakes are to be showcased in the Devildom for centuries to come)

It gets to the point where you and Solomon start making bets over how basic you can get with your art for Diavolo to still consider it “amazing” and “utterly awe-inspiring,” as he likes to put it

In honor of that bet, there is currently a banana peel with a few marker doodles on it hanging in a preserved case in an iced room in the lowest levels of the palace, as none of the “art” can be wasted

But in truth, the demon lord’s fixation with human culture is endearing, especially when Diavolo tries so hard to be accepting of it

So eventually you stop giving Diavolo wacky art and actually start putting your full effort into your creations—your reward being the fact that the final piece you complete gets hung in Diavolo’s private bedroom, where he promises to gaze at it every night for the rest of eternity, vowing to remember his time with you every time he sees it

[leebird-simmer]

Russian Fairy Tales Test Prep: Pagan Deities

The best known roster of pagan deities is that of the six whose statues Prince Vladimir erected upon assuming sole rule of Kiev. According to the Primary Chronicle for the year 980, he “placed idols on a hill, outside the palace yard, a wooden Perun with a silver head and a golden mustache, and Khors and Dazhbog and Stribog and Simargl and Mokosh.” Missing from this list is Volos/Veles, the god of cattle (skotnii bog) and commerce, whose veneration in ancient Rus’ is widely attested, and by whose name (along with that of Perun) ancient Russians ratified oaths.

A. Perun/Bog

1. equivalent to: Lithuanian Perkunas, Latvian Perkons, Albanian Perendi, Roman Jupiter, Greek Zeus, Hittite Teshub, Norse Thor/Donar, Celtic Taranis.  2. primary sources: Nestor’s Chronicle, mid-6th century Procopius, 10th-century Varangian treaties 3. primary story: a creation myth, in which he battles Veles, the Slavic god of the underworld, for the protection of his wife (Mokosh, goddess of summer) and the freedom of atmospheric water, as well as for the control of the universe. 4. dvoeverie: After Christianization in the 11th century CE, Perun's cult became associated with St. Elias (Elijah), also known as the Holy Prophet Ilie (or Ilija Muromets or Ilja Gromovik), who is said to have ridden madly with a chariot of fire across the sky, and punished his enemies with lightning bolts.

In Slavic mythology: Perun was the supreme god of the pre-Christian Slavic pantheon, although there is evidence that he supplanted Svarog (the god of the sun) as the leader at some point in history. Perun was a pagan warrior of heaven and patron protector of warriors. As the liberator of atmospheric water (through his creation tale battle with the dragon Veles), he was worshipped as a god of agriculture, and bulls and a few humans were sacrificed to him. In 988, the leader of the Kievan Rus' Vladimir I pulled down Perun's statue near Kyiv (Ukraine) and it was cast into the waters of the Dneiper River. As recently as 1950, people would cast gold coins in the Dneiper to honor Perun.

Appearance & Reputation: Perun is portrayed as a vigorous, red-bearded man with an imposing stature, with silver hair and a golden mustache. He carries a hammer, a war ax, and/or a bow with which he shoots bolts of lightning. He is associated with oxen and represented by a sacred tree—a mighty oak. He is sometimes illustrated as riding through the sky in a chariot drawn by a goat. In illustrations of his primary myth, he is sometimes pictured as an eagle sitting in the top branches of the tree, with his enemy and battle rival Veles the dragon curled around its roots.

Perun is associated with Thursday—the Slavic word for Thursday "Perendan" means "Perun's Day"—and his festival date was June 21.

Reports: The earliest reference to Perun is in the works of the Byzantine scholar Procopius (500–565 CE), who noted that the Slavs worshipped the "Maker of Lightning" as the lord over everything and the god to whom cattle and other victims were sacrificed.

Perun appears in several surviving Varangian (Rus) treaties beginning in 907 CE. In 945, a treaty between the Rus' leader Prince Igor (consort of Princess Olga) and the Byzantine emperor Constantine VII included a reference to Igor's men (the unbaptized ones) laying down their weapons, shields, and gold ornaments and taking an oath at a statue of Perun—the baptized ones worshipped at the nearby church of St. Elias. The Chronicle of Novgorod (compiled 1016–1471) reports that when the Perun shrine in that city was attacked, there was a serious uprising of the people, all suggesting that the myth had some long-term substance.

B. Kors/Xors/Chors

- most frequently mentioned Slavic god, after Perun - dvoeverie: appears in the apocryphal work Sermon and Apocalypse of the Holy Apostles, which mentions Perun and Khors as old men; Khors is said to live in Cyprus. Khors also appears in the apocryphal text Conversation of the Three Saints, a text which combines Slavic + Christian + Bogomil traditions. In it, he is referred to as “an angel of thunder” and it is said that he is Jewish. - his functions are uncertain and there are multiple interpretations of his name.

1. Sun God hypothesis: associated with Dazhbog; in The Tale of Igor’s Campaign, Prince Vseslav, who “came to Tmutarakani before the cocks" and "Khors ran his way", traveled from west to east and thus reached the castle before the cocks crowed, and in this way "overtook" the Sun; his name means “rays.”

2. Moon God hypothesis: Prince Vseslav was called “wolf” and his journey takes place at night when the sun is absent from the sky; his name does mean “rays” but they’re the moon’s rays and not the sun’s rays.

3. Fertility God/Vegetation hypothesis: link between Thracian & early Slavic cultures indicates Kors is more of a Dionysus-type figure, who dies and is risen; like Dionysus, Dazhbog (who Kors is often linked to) has a double nature (Eastern Slavs assign him solar qualities, while Southern Slavs assign him chthonic qualities).

C. Dazhbog

1. equivalent to: Khors (Russian/Iranian), Mithra (Persian), Helios (Greek), Lucifer (Christian) 2. primary sources: John Malalas, The Song of Igor’s Campaign 3. family: Son of Svarog, brother of fire god Svarozhich, husband of Mesyats (the moon), father of the Zoryi and Zvezdy 4. primary myth: He resided in the east, in a land of everlasting summer and plenty, in a palace made of gold. The morning and evening auroras, known collectively as Zorya, were his daughters. In the morning, Zorya opened the palace gates to allow Dazbog to leave the palace and begin his daily journey across the sky; in the evening, Zorya closed the gates after the sun returned in the evening. 5. dvoeverie: There was a belief that each winter he would enter people's homes and gift gold to those who had been good. That belief passed into Christianity, especially in Serbia, and this visitor was called Položajnik. During Christianisation, his cult was exchanged with the cult of Saint Sava, while Dažbog became lame Daba - the most powerful demon in Hell. Reasons why he was demonized are various, possibly because his cult was the strongest in Serbia or because he was considered also as the god of Nav, the Slavic underworld and world of the dead.

In Slavic mythology: Dazbog was the Slavic sun god, a role that is common to many Indo-European people, and there is ample evidence that there was a sun cult in the pre-Christian tribes of central Europe. His name means "day god" or "giving god," to different scholars—"Bog" is generally accepted to mean "god," but Daz means either "day" or "giving."

His totem animal was a wolf, therefore wolves were sacred animals and killing them was considered a great sin. Wolves were considered to be messengers of Dazhbog, while he himself could shift into a white wolf.

According to one myth, Svarog became tired of reigning over the universe and passed on his power to his sons, Dazhbog and Svarogich.

Appearance & Reputation: Dazbog is said to ride across the sky in a golden chariot drawn by fire-breathing horses who are white, gold, silver, or diamonds. In some tales, the horses are beautiful and white with golden wings, and sunlight comes from the solar fire shield Dazbog always carries with him. At night, Dazbog wanders the sky from east to west, crossing the great ocean with a boat pulled by geese, wild ducks, and swans.

In some tales, Dazbog starts out in the morning as a young, strong man but by the evening he is a red-faced, bloated elderly gentleman; he is reborn every morning. He represents fertility, male power, and in "The Song of Igor's Campaign" he is mentioned as the grandfather of the Slavs.

4. Stribog

Very little is known about him, although he was clearly very important to early Slavic peoples. In the epic ”Slovo o polku Igorove “ it is said that the winds, the grandsons of Stribog, blow from the sea. This leads to conclusion that Stribog is imagined as an old person, since he has grandsons. The grandsons were the winds from all directions.

Eagle was the animal consecrated to  Stribog. Plants consecrated to Stribog were hawthorn and oak. When pledges were made, Stribog was often warrantor. Festivities in Stribog’s honor were organized in the summer as well as in the winter. They were probably organized in the summer  in order to invocate winds and rain, while in the winter they were organized in order to appease him. In the period of Christianization Stribog’s characteristics were overtaken by St. Bartholomew and Stevan vetroviti (windy).

5. Simargl/Semargl

- may be equivalent to Simurgh in Persian mythology, who is portrayed similarly (winged lion and/or dog). He can also take human form. - God of physical fire (as opposed to celestial fire; that’s Svarog) - He is said to be the husband of Kupalnica (or Kupalnitsa), goddess of night, from whom he got two children: Kupalo and Kostroma.

Zorya, solar goddesses who are servants or daughters of the deity Dazhbog, keep Simargl chained to the star Polaris in the constellation Ursa Minor. Should he break free and destroy this constellation, it will cause the world to end.

Why would he be worshipped in Rus’, you ask? A couple of possible answers: a. Eastern Slavs borrowed Simargl from Sarmatian-Alanian people and worshiped him. b. Eastern Slavs never worshiped Simargl. Just at that time, a significant number of Kiev residents were of Khazar and Sarmatian-Alanian origin. Vladimir included their deity in the pantheon to get their support.

6. Volos/Veles (also Vlas, Weles Vlasii, St. Blaise, or Blasius)

1. equivalent to: Velinas (Baltic), Varuna (Vedic), Hermes (Greek), Odin (Norse) 2. primary sources: The Tale of Igor’s Campaign, old Russian chronicles 3. primary myth: a creation myth, in which Veles abducts Mokosh (the Goddess of Summer and consort of Perun, God of Thunder). Perun and his enemy battle for the universe under a huge oak, Perun's holy tree, similar to both Greek and Norse (Yggdrasil) mythologies. The battle is won by Perun, and afterward, the waters of the world are set free and flowing. 4. dvoeverie: Velia remains a feast of the dead in old Lithuanian, celebrating the border between the world of the living and the world of the dead, with Veles operating as a role of guiding souls to the underworld. The battle between Perun (Ilija Muromets or St. Elias) and Veles (Selevkiy) is found in many different forms, but in later stories, instead of gods, they are complementary figures separated from one another by a furrow plowed by Christ, who converts them. Veles is also likely represented by St. Vlasii, depicted in Russian iconography as surrounded by sheep, cows, and goats.

In Slavic mythology: A second creation myth associated with Veles is the formation of the boundary between the underworld and the human world, a result of a treaty forged between Veles and a shepherd/magician.

In the treaty, the unnamed shepherd pledges to sacrifice his best cow to Veles and keep many prohibitions. Then he divides the human world from the wild underworld led by Veles, which is either a furrow plowed by Veles himself or a groove across the road carved by the shepherd with a knife which the evil powers cannot cross.

Veles is associated with a wide variety of powers and protectors: he is associated with poetry and wisdom, the lord of the waters (oceans, seas, ships, and whirlpools). He is both the hunter and protector of cattle and the lord of the underworld, a reflection of the Indo-European concept of the netherworld as a pasture. He is also related to an ancient Slavic cult of the deceased soul; the ancient Lithuanian term "welis" means "dead" and "welci" means "dead souls."

Appearance & Reputation: Veles is generally portrayed as a bald human man, sometimes with bull horns on his head. In the epic creation battle between Velos and Perun, however, Veles is a serpent or dragon lying in a nest of black wool or on a black fleece beneath the World Tree; some scholars have suggested he was a shape-shifter. In addition to domestic horses, cows, goats, and sheep, Veles is associated with wolves, reptiles, and black birds (ravens and crows). 

Reports: The earliest reference to Veles is in the Rus-Byzantine Treaty of 971, in which the signers must swear by Veles' name. Violators of the treaty are warned of a menacing punishment: they will be killed by their own weapons and become "yellow as gold," which some scholars have interpreted as "cursed with a disease." If so, that would imply a connection to the Vedic god Varuna, also a cattle god who could send diseases to punish miscreants.

7. Mokosh

1. loosely comparable to: Gaia, Hera (Greek), Juno (Roman), Astarte (Semitic) 2. epithets: Goddess Who Spins Wool, Mother Moist Earth, Flax Woman 3. primary sources: Nestor Chronicle (a.k.a. Primary Chronicle), Christian-recorded Slavic tales 4. dvoeverie: With the coming of Christianity into the Slavic countries in the 11th century CE, Mokosh was converted to a saint, St. Paraskeva Pyanitsa (or possibly the Virgin Mary), who is sometimes defined as the personification of the day of Christ's crucifixion, and others a Christian martyr. Described as tall and thin with loose hair, St. Paraskeva Pyanitsa is known as "l'nianisa" (flax woman), connecting her to spinning. She is the patroness of merchants and traders and marriage, and she defends her followers from a range of diseases.

In Slavic mythology:  The origins of Mokosh as mother earth may date to pre-Indo-European times (Cuceteni or Tripolye culture, 6th–5th millennia BCE) when a near-global woman-centered religion is thought to have been in place. Some scholars suggest she may be a version of Finno-Ugric sun goddess Jumala. 

Mokosh, sometimes transliterated as Mokoš and meaning "Friday," is Moist Mother Earth and thus the most important (or sometimes only) goddess in the religion. As a creator, she is said to have been discovered sleeping in a cave by a flowering spring by the spring god Jarilo, with whom she created the fruits of the earth. She is also the protector of spinning, tending sheep, and wool, patron of merchants and fishermen, who protects cattle from plague and people from drought, disease, drowning, and unclean spirits.

Although the Great Goddess has a variety of consorts, both human and animal, in her role as a primary Slavic goddess, Mokosh is the moist earth goddess and is set against (and married to) Perun as the dry sky god. Some Slavic peasants felt it was wrong to spit on the earth or beat it. During the Spring, practitioners considered the earth pregnant: before March 25 ("Lady Day"), they would neither construct a building or a fence, drive a stake into the ground or sow seed. When peasant women gathered herbs they first lay prone and prayed to Mother Earth to bless any medicinal herbs.

Appearance & Reputation: Surviving images of Mokosh are rare—although there were stone monuments to her beginning at least as long ago as the 7th century. A wooden cult figure in a wooded area in the Czech Republic is said to be a figure of her. Historical references say she had a large head and long arms, a reference to her connection with spiders and spinning. Symbols associated with her include spindles and cloth, the rhombus (a nearly global reference to women's genitals for at least 20,000 years), and the Sacred Tree or Pillar.There are many goddesses in the various Indo-European pantheons who reference spiders and spinning. Historian Mary Kilbourne Matossian has pointed out that the Latin word for tissue "textere" means "to weave," and in several derivative languages such as Old French, "tissue" means "something woven." The act of spinning, suggests Matossian, is to create body tissue. The umbilical cord is the thread of life, transmitting moisture from the mother to the infant, twisted and coiled like the thread around a spindle. The final cloth of life is represented by the shroud or "winding sheet," wrapped around a corpse in a spiral, as thread loops around a spindle.

Our brief survey of agrarian holidays indicates that the peasant’s central concern is fertility and that special rites in the cemetery and/or rites involving a symbolic death & resurrection are a major component in these celebrations.

Belief in the absolute sanctity of “Mother Damp Earth” (Mat’syra zemlia) has been central to folk belief throughout the centuries. In remote areas, old people observed a ritual of asking the earth’s forgiveness prior to death into the 20th century. A number of scholars have maintained that peasants transferred attributes of earth worship to their particular veneration of Mary as “Mother of God.”

Fedotov: “At every step in studying Russian popular religion, one meets the constant longing for a great divine female power, be it embodied in the image of Mary or someone else. Is it too daring to hypothesize, on the basis of this religious propensity, the scattered elements of the cult of a Great Goddess who once...reigned upon the immense Russian plains?”