#maybe in the fantasy world they all had marks somewhere on their bodies from where they drew their magical powers

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

love the idea of an isekai historical fantasy reverse harem where the guy returns to the present and finds out there are modern counterparts to all the women in his harem BUT it's from the point of view of his girlfriend from before he got zapped to the past

[otomes-world]

"Under fantasy disguise" part Pomefiore (1)

Fantasy AU “Under fantasy disguise”: world lore (prologue) heartslabyul savanaclaw octavinelle scarabia trigger warning: some self hate, reader in really bad state (but there is nothing grafic), barrely edited text.

At some point, the clouds flying past completely erased the idea of time and space. Slowly brightening sky marked the beginning of a new day. The lump in throat, the approaching nausea and self-loathing merged into one large layer, settling like a burden in your chest. A heaviness that radiates unpleasantly throughout the whole body.

You wanted to pry open chest if only it could give at least a little peace of mind.

However, the much-desired peace would not come. The subconscious told you, or maybe you yourself understood that you couldn’t let go of the situation. Frankly, what happened - all at once - was not your fault. It wasn’t, but selfishness and the banal desire to survive stuck needles into such a subjective concept of conscience, which you didn’t even suspect. When you live in a world of technology - when you don't have to make tough decisions - the world seems simpler.

You didn’t know where the carpet was going. Perhaps it was simply obeying your unspoken impulse to get away. Anywhere. To a place where it will be at least a little easier.

However, during the time you spent in this world, you managed to come to terms with the thought: it won’t get better. The further you plunged into unfamiliar lands and got to know its inhabitants, the harder the blow to your mental health. At some point you thought that the happiest time of your forced journey was wandering in the mountains.

Taking a shuddering breath, you froze abruptly, noticing movement out of the corner of your eye. Something flew past at incredible speed. Glancing briefly at the sleeping cat, you clenched your fists, your nails - or what was left of them - digging into the skin of your palms. The pain helped calm down a little and focus on my surroundings. A moment and something flew by again, this time very close.

It didn't seem to you.

Waking Grimm up with your left hand, you tried to look down. The carpet did not slow down, and therefore it was difficult to try to see anything. The barely brightening sky did not help at all. Suddenly the fabric shook and you felt something cold millimeters from your other hand. Imagining the worst, you looked down, noticing the thin scratch on your skin and the arrow.

Everything inside you suddenly stopped.

Heart began to beat sharply, making already labored breathing difficult. The mind tried to come up with a solution, an escape, something, but apparently the third arrow was the last warning. The last one before something incomprehensible collided with the carpet, paradoxically sobering and frightening at the same time. Intuitively stretching out your hands towards the sound of meowing, you realized in horror that you were falling down. The carpet, which had saved your life several times, was flailing in the air, trying to extinguish the flames that were engulfing the fabric faster and faster.

You closed your eyes and prepared to fall. The sharp blow, it felt like it, knocked out the remaining oxygen on the branch, as did a further fall onto the wet grass. The pain darkened vision. You wanted to scream, but you didn’t have the strength to unclench teeth and utter even a sound. Bent over, you still clutched Grimm to your chest, simultaneously trying to think about something good.

Heartslabyul still caused waking nightmares, but there were incredibly beautiful roses there. Flowers. Pleasant baking aroma. The softly shining sun.

A slow, careful breath literally created a storm inside. The lungs protested, the muscles tensed to the limit. It would be so easy to close your eyes and plunge into darkness if it weren't for the adrenaline still flowing through your veins. Your attacker was still somewhere nearby.

Sitting up with an effort of will, you could hardly resist so as not to fall back. Your side was burning, and the notorious stars were flying before eyes. What kept you from giving up was the realization that the breathing of the cat, limp in your arms, was becoming weaker. The fear of being alone in this world turned out to be enough of an incentive to go against everything: fate, a tired body and, possibly, broken bones.

A rustling sound came very close, and you tensed, preparing for the worst. Having spotted a dry branch nearby, you wondered how much time and effort it would take to grab it. There was a rustling sound again, and this time the steps took him by surprise, but a child appeared from behind the bushes. Even in the semi-darkness, you noticed his light gray hair and pointed ears. Gradually, two more appeared behind him: one with burgundy strands sticking out to the sides and a gloomy expression on his face, and the second, ready to fall asleep at any moment.

The very first, apparently the main one of the trio, took a step forward, raising his hands in a calming gesture, "How are you feeling? How many fingers am I showing?"

You just shook your head, closing your eyes. The voice of reason insisted that you had to run, but fear for Grimm did not allow you to take even a step..

"Us.. can.. help.. you.. "you didn’t recognize your own voice. It sounded so quiet and muffled that you doubted whether you were heard. Your throat burned, but you opened your mouth again to repeat the request as many times as necessary.

"Dominic, it’s not a good idea to bring someone you don’t know home, is it?" The gloomy child spoke, and for a second you again started to panic. "If we bring everyone we meet and cross, we ourselves will soon become the King’s target."

King? That's all you needed. Previous territories also had heads, but facing the “royal family” sounded much more terrible and problematic

"..only a night.. I can.. stay in the forest.. only Grimm.." It seemed like torture to pronounce every word. Your vision was blurry, but you were obliged to hold out.

“Another guest won’t be such a problem,” Dominic answered. "Can you get up?"

No. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to get up. You couldn't even lie to yourself. You didn’t even have to answer, the main one came up and extended his hands to the cat. With trembling hands, struggling not to pull them away, you allowed the cat to be taken away

"Groom, stay and look after last one. Shelpi and I will go get Neige"

The one who was called Groom grumbled without ceasing, but still approached you. Watching the children disappear among the greenery, you allowed yourself to relax. At least Grimm was safe.

"Hey. Hey! Come to your senses!"

You felt someone shaking your shoulder, but you couldn’t make out anything else. Only at some point did you hear someone’s worried voice, but you couldn’t make out what exactly he was saying.

You came to your senses, then fell into oblivion again. Voices, sounds, light caused dizziness and rejection. The only thing you remembered throughout the entire chaotic state was that pleasant voice and someone’s warm hands.

"You woke up!" Someone voiced it before you even realized it yourself. It’s just that at some point you stopped distinguishing between reality and a dream, but it seems that this time you were definitely in reality. "Wait, I'll call Dominic"

Closing your eyelids, you tried to focus on the present. You weren't abandoned in the forest, that's a plus. The attacker didn't show up yesterday, or maybe you just weren't found. The questions “Who” and “Why” remained unanswered. It would be possible to close your eyes and not chase your tail, as before, but your intuition suggested that this time it would be different. That this was just the calm before the next storm. But you no longer had the strength to look for shelter so as not to be carried away to the mercy of fate.

This name fluttered familiarly in memory. That's right, that was the name of the bright child. Following with an unfocused gaze the young man - although now in your eyes he was just a colored spot - who quickly rushed off somewhere, leaving you for a minute.

A quiet knock brought you back to reality. It was strange, the young man didn’t seem to lock the door. Opening your eyes slightly, you squinted, trying to make out the newcomer. As you thought, it turned out to be the same child. Next to him stood someone your age - maybe a little older or younger - with a friendly smile. The corners of your lips slightly twitched upward, but they couldn’t become the same full-fledged smile.

"Are you feeling better now?" Asked the child, who continued speaking after a nod from you. “You’re probably still confused, so I’ll try to speak more slowly. My name is Dominic, my dwarf brothers and me have been living in this forest for a very long time. And this,” he pointed at the young man, “is Neige. Although you may already know him. Let me know what happened to you?"

"…if.. I knew.. someone attacked us while we were flying on the carpet.. we turned over and fell, Grimm.. Grimm! Where is he?" An attempt to sit up abruptly was unsuccessful, causing more circles under the eyes and weakness. A brunette who appeared next to you prevented you from turning over and falling out of bed

"Your friend is okay!" The dwarf immediately answered hastily. "He, like you, needs to rest. But you need to do this first. During the fall, you broke a rib" you immediately touched your burning side. “It will take time to heal.”

Having given a short thank you to him and the boy, as a sign that you were already feeling better, you began to hastily rebuild your plan of action. It was impossible to linger, but on the other hand, going in the current state was no less stupid. You understood that the fall could not have happened without something - there was a limit to luck and the capabilities of the human body - but the awareness did not brighten up what was happening.

"Do you know who could have attacked you?“ The young man asked softly, holding out a glass of water that had come from nowhere. However, you weren't complaining.

“No.. No, this is my first time in these lands,” after a couple of sips it became easier to speak. “We were flying… yes, we were flying,” you strained your tired memory. "…someone shot! I remembered the arrow!" Looking hopefully at Dominic, you saw a worried look. As if he realized who exactly attacked you and the Grimm. For some reason, you doubted whether it was worth finding out the truth. "This is not someone from the royal family, right?"

You tried to laugh, but it sounded pathetic even to your own ears. For some reason, the duo didn't appreciate your joke.

“It might have been Rook,” you frowned, another new name. “He works as a hunter and serves Vi,” the young man tried to keep the conversation going with the same light laugh, which came out better than yours. However the impression he made was the same - he did not inspire confidence.

“Vi?” You asked carefully, afraid to confirm your fears.

"Exactly, you don’t know. That's what I call Vil, he is the king of these lands. We saw each other quite often at the castle!"

You were doomed. You could see the world literally crumbling before your eyes. This is exactly what was needed for happiness. Purely to confirm what you already suspected, you turned to Dominic, "What is the probability that… how did you call him, Rook?.. Reported everything to the king?"

Silence was a convincing enough answer.

Despite the chance of being discovered, you remained in the dwarves' house. It was inspired by the hopelessness and persuasiveness of Neige, who took upon himself the responsibility of your personal doctor. Although this was too strong a word, the process was still more led by the chief of the dwarves. Gradually you got to know the others.

Groom and Shelpi were part of the company that day. Although the first one was rude and hot-tempered, you couldn’t call him bad. It just took some getting used to. Shelpi was his opposite. A dwarf with a perpetually sleepy look, although you could understand him. In your current state, all you wanted to do was sleep.

There were four more gnomes: Timmy, Toby, Snick and Hop. You saw Timmy only from afar and only in someone else��s company. Perhaps he was just nervous around strangers. Toby was a sweetheart whose memory failed him more often than usual. Hop was a classic example of a cheerful child, and Snick's specialty was his perpetual allergies.

Watching their noisy but cheerful routine was a pleasant change from the nightmare that was happening in your life before. Nevertheless, you remembered Heartslabyul’s experience and were in no hurry to relax.

The more time you spent in their friendly company, the stronger the feeling of guilt grew. Understanding that they would come for you. Now or a little later didn't matter. Just like how many troubles befell the cat’s head for the company. Asking to take care of Grimm was another breaking through the ceiling called “selfishness,” but… that incident made it clear that problems were pouring down on your head more and more often. Their consequences were becoming increasingly difficult to correct.

Living with guilt was unbearable.

So much so that you were unable to look into the eyes of your faithful friend, who has literally gone through thick and thin with you, and you decided to leave him.

You didn't even hope for forgiveness. Deep inside you understood that this was just an attempt to come to an agreement with yourself, a struggle for the opportunity to hate yourself a little less. Looking at the recovering cat, this thought took root more firmly in consciousness.

The pathetic excuse “it will be better this way.”

Gradually you were allowed to take short walks. Your side still hurt, as did the wounds on back, but the fresh air helped to distract you and not drown in self-flagellation. The only activity for which you always had the strength.

Hoping to find your things, you tried to find the crash site from memory. It was stupid, especially since those trinkets were of no value. To some extent, they simply gave an imaginary sense of belonging. Reminders of your home world, which seemed farther and farther away day by day.

Moving aside the branches, you were finally able to find the desired clearing. It was like all the others, but some internal awareness did not allow you to pass by.

Check and leave.

Simple plan - simple implementation. Searching among the bushes without bending down was another challenge. Having sat down, you rose to your feet again with great difficulty, the shooting pain in your lower back made itself felt every time you tried to find your treasured things.

Breathing heavily, you leaned your hand on the trunk of a nearby tree. A little break won't hurt anyone, that's for sure in your condition. Taking a deep breath, you glanced around the clearing once again, making mental notes of where the bag might have been thrown.

There was not a soul around, or at least it seemed so. Perhaps over time you became too suspicious, but at the moment you could not leave the feeling of being watched, no matter how stupid it may sound. Who could be in the deep forest, right? Unless… who attacked you and the Grimm that day. You tsked and took another breath, trying to calm down.

It was dangerous to return to the house: you didn’t want to let Neige and his friends down. Trying to escape in an unknown direction was reckless. You didn’t know these places, one wrong turn and Robinson Crusoe will appear in this forest. Although you doubted that this world had heard of him. The possibility of becoming a discoverer was not encouraging.

"Ma cheri! What a rarity it is to find such a beautiful creature in such a dense thicket,” a voice that came out of nowhere took you by surprise.

Turning towards the sound at a speed you didn’t know you were capable of, you saw a strange blond-haired young man.

“Are you… talking about me?..” You asked carefully, simultaneously looking for a way to escape. Now the suspicions no longer seemed groundless.

He spoke a lot and not very clearly, sometimes you lost the thread of the story. In your best times, you didn’t like such conversations, let alone today. However, this was a good opportunity to look at the blond. He was wearing a cream-colored tunic, loose pants and a hat with a fluffy white feather.

"Oui! Yes and yes! A triple "yes" is not enough to prove the sincerity of my words. How brave and reckless are walks in the wilds, where every animal and people poses a danger. I had already decided that knowledge, Fata Morgana, which had darkened my mind and revealed such a fragile angel in human form!"

It was necessary to come up with an excuse and as quickly as possible. Perhaps you would be able to wander around, wait for him to leave, and return home without consequences. However, this would be too loud a statement. If there's one thing life has taught you, it was not to think ahead of time.

"Thank you, I guess?.. Did you want something?" You decided to ask directly.

"Oh, that's right. Wandering among the flora and fauna, I found one interesting little thing,” he sadly shook his head while you did everything to prevent doubts from showing on your face. "Obeying the will of my heart, I am trying to find the owner."

Emphasizing the last word, he smiled, narrowing his eyes. The nature of the emotion that flashed through them made you shiver.

"Well, I wish you good luck in your search, sir.."

"Hunt! But you can call me by my name, just Rook,” digging your nails into the palms, you kept a friendly expression on your face through an effort of will. The blond raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, and then also calmly began to close the distance. "I don’t dare to hope that you have heard of me. However, like me about you. His Majesty, Roi du Poison, has been wanting to meet you for quite some time, and who are we to refuse him."

Looking ahead at the outstretched hand and the unshakable figure of - as Neige said - the hunter, you doubted that you had any chance of escape.

[toujokaname]

Matrix / Prologue

Author: Akira

Characters: Hiiro, Rinne, Niki

"Now please listen to it, Rinne Amagi's debut single...♪"

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[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su ♪ ]

Season: Winter

Location: Forest

A dream, or perhaps a reminiscence. Rinne Amagi's hometown, among the surrounding mountains.

Hiiro: Nii-saaan?

(...Hmm. I've followed the "marks" left behind to this point, but I don't see Nii-san anywhere.)

(Maybe I've been deceived by him after all.)

(Those marks might've been a trick to throw me off his trail, and Nii-san might have slipped away to some unknown place by now.)

(Somewhere called the city.)

(If so, it'll be difficult to track him down. I haven't been told where Nii-san leaves the village.)

(In the first place, how did Nii-san manage to leave this village, which should have no contact with the outside world, and go to the city—)

Rinne: Ta-da~☆

Hiiro: ...! Nii-san!

Thank goodness. I thought you had gone back to the city, but you're still here.

Everyone is looking for you. There's so much work to do, so many rituals to perform...

Rinne: I don't care about any of that!

Hiiro: You should care. If someone doesn't fulfill their responsibilities, they'll lose their position.

And you, the next monarch, should be no exception to this rule.

Rinne: Jeez, shut up already! Just listen! Onii-chan's gonna show you something fun, Hiiro!

Hiiro: Something fun?

Rinne: Yep! After digging through books and composing my own tunes, I finally came up with something decent!

I'm gonna show you something fun I discovered in the city!

An idol dance thingy! Heh heh~♪

Hiiro: I'm not interested. Nii-san always says whatever he wants to, but I wish you'd listen to me every now and then.

Rinne: I refuse! Just shut up and watch, Hiiro! I promise you won't regret it!

Give me a round of applause! Rookie idol Rinne Amagi's first performance is dedicated to—my one and only, most precious little brother in the world!

Now please listen to it, Rinne Amagi's debut single...♪

Hiiro: *Clap clap clap clap...?* (Clapping without really understanding)

About a decade later, right after Rinne Amagi debuted as an idol.

At Rinne's place of residence, Niki Shiina's apartment.

Rinne: Mnnyu... Keep watching, Hiiro~ Onii-chan's gonna have a blast from now on—

Niki: Rinne-onii-saaan?

Wakey, wakey. Rather, don't cuddle me while you're half asleep. You know I'm not that Hiiro person, right~?

Rinne: ......

...Yeah. Good morning, Niki.

Niki: Yup, morning~ You're still as sluggish as ever after waking up, Onii-san.

I get it... We're not really eating well, so it's hard for blood to move through our bodies...

Rinne: Don't worry. I'll earn enough as an idol to feed you plenty every day.

Niki: I sure hope so! I'm gonna start working after graduating middle school, but I might starve to death before that 'cause we don't have money for food!

Onii-san's the only one I can depend on. So pleeease do your best today to bring home the bacon~

Rinne: Yeah. I'm not planning to become an ungrateful freeloader, so I'll work hard.

Niki: Just enough's fine~ You work to eat, but if you overwork yourself to death and can't even enjoy the food, that's backwards.

Well, becoming an idol's like Rinne-onii-san's dream, right? Maybe you wanna push yourself too hard?

Is it really all that fun~? Y'know, that idol stuff?

Rinne: That I still don't know. There's so many differences between the fantasies I had as a kid and reality, leaving me depressed and disappointed.

Still, that must be what it means to be a slave of love, 'cause right now I can only see the "good parts" ♪

Niki: Gotcha. As long as you're happy.

Oh crap, the miso soup's about to boil over... Onii-san, you'll have breakfast, right?

Rinne: Yeah. Thanks for the food. My bad for always mooching off you, huh, Niki?

Niki: If you feel that way, then work harder and earn enough for me to add extra ingredients to the soup. Just with that, I'd be plenty satisfied.

Rinne: I'll definitely make you happy! Niki!

Niki: Hm? Yeah... As long as I can eat every day, I'm happy~?

Well, I don't really get it, but I'm glad to see you're motivated ♪

—Hehe. Knock 'em dead at work today too, Onii-san.

Rinne: You bet! Rinne-onii-chan's gonna give it his all in idol activities today too~!

[ ☆ ]

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[soullostintime]

Warmth.

It's intoxicating. It's revolting to all senses of our bodies. Because it's pleasure, and who knows if he deserves pleasure. Warmth, so warm, so comfortable and warm, a tiny bonfire with breathable warm air, a blanket full of treasures, of love and care and softness like heaven, warm, so so warm.

And yet, a haunting sensation, omnipresent, reminding him that perhaps he doesn't deserve warmth. That he must be alone, all alone, with the fear and anxiety of harmonies unfamiliar, unknown, and yet he must find pleasure in these, these places that don't want him. These places that represent the ideal livelihood, the livelihood that is not his, can never he his, because he's different and nobody likes different.

He hates parties because everyone is out of their minds; smoking auroras, gulping down a crafted glass, eating what's disgusting, even though they'll puke it all out on an stranger who is too drunk to care. He hates parties, they remind him of closed, congested places he can never escape from, areas that have no place for you, and yet you cannot help but stay because it would be too weird and suspicious otherwise.

Sometimes, he avoids faces while on a stroll. He thinks it's easy, so easy to not look and ignore and pretend it's all easy that no one is looking at him, and even if they are, he doesn't know, so it's easy. He likes easy. Maybe he could do this often, stay polite and away and avoiding all eyes, all stares that mark his face like a blot of ink on paper, and it's easy, so easy.

He often wonders if he's an anomaly, a discourse in the system of the perfects, or if he's 'special' as they all call the ones who are just different and cannot be understood. "Oh, my boy, you're special! It's fine, no one is the same!" But oh, he wishes he was. He wishes he could go to parties and get-togethers and reunions and act like the popular jock everyone loves, like the guy who cracked jokes and looked hot and had everyone looking forward to seeing him, just seeing him again.

Warmth. He wonders if it would've been warm, doing so. Fitting in, tracing steps of every single person around him. Just doing what everyone did. Kissing people, falling in love, staying committed, talking to friends, being funny, looking happy. He wishes he could be happy, wonders if everyone is.

Is he happy, being different? He might be, in his own little world of wonders, in a room filled with his fantasies, his dreams and his eyes on every corner, every inch that screams his name and says: "Yes, I'm yours." And he's happy because he can belong. He's happy to stay hidden, stay in the closet away from the universe imposing the livelihood on him. He's happy, just existing in a tiny space where no one bothers him, where he must not pretend, where he can scream his heart out and not care, where he can say that he might never love and not have judging stares hooked on him.

Warmth, is this warmth?

He wishes he can carry this warmth with him forever, in places and things and people, and oh so many people, or just one, someone, just so he can not care if they laugh at him, or cry with him, or worry or care or look at him with a look unfamiliar, unknown. He just wouldn't care, because this person would be his warmth, another part of his soul that travels, exists in some other corner of this world, and yet never fades away, always there, always the same, always warm.

He wishes he could have this warmth. He wonders if he deserves it, being the anomaly he is. Maybe, strange people are supposed to stay strange alone, that's their purpose, plunged and squeezed into the background, like a guy no one remembers but saw, thinking hard that: "Hey! I saw you at that place that one time. Um, I can't remember... What was your name again?" And oh, should he be happy that at least someone 'saw' him, or sad, once again, that his name has been forgotten – like that side character who has two lines in the movie, and then he moves on, somewhere else. If it's a horror movie, he probably dies first.

And so he runs, and hides, and hugs his knees close to his chest and sobs, and he doesn't know why he is doing this, it's ridiculous, absurd, atrocious, because no one has hurt him? They have all been nice and kind and accepting and sweet and here he is, crying because he's an attention seeker, a coward, an anomaly. No one has pushed him, stabbed him, bled him to death that he has to cry this way, to run away from people just living their lives, who ask, who come, who remember, some who even remember his name and call him from a distance and ask how he's been. But oh, he's a monster, a monster who's never satisfied and just keeps wanting and wants more, so much more. Oh, he's ridiculous, so selfish and cruel and mean to everyone. Even now, he thinks so, as these hot stream runs down his face with thoughts unfamiliar, unknown.

Warmth.

He wants to find it; wants it inside of him, carrying it everywhere to everyone; wants to spread it like it should spread to him, intoxicate them with smooth and honest words, words he wishes someone spoke to him. Warmth. Warmth that rises from his chest to his eyes that perceive, portray and ponder, his hands that hold so tight and never let go, his legs that stay sturdy and willful and strong. He is warm. So warm, so so warm, and he's not sitting by a bonfire reciting stories or snuggled in a blanket with wonders and treasures. He's not in his room that calls his name. He is here, somewhere, and he is warm.

And then he wakes up.

[logmosswrites]

That Hum of Night

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Hanzo Shimada x fem!reader x Jesse McCree

Words: 4k

Warning: NSFW! 18+ only. Definitely PWP, wet dreams, BDSM dynamics, Dom Hanzo and Jesse, Sub reader, dirty talk, humiliation/degredation (verbal and otherwise), praise kink, nipple play, dry humping, rope bondage, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, orgasm delay/denial, vibrator use, unsafe sex, creampie, oral sex/cunnilingus, come marking, aftercare. No y/n.

Author's note: cross posted to AO3.

There was nothing but heat. No up, no down, no world at all outside of the bodies pressed against yours. Your legs parted to make room for them, urging them closer still with every whimper and moan rolling off of your lips. You were hopelessly desperate, open and dripping for anything that would fill you. Fingers lazily fucked you open, joining a writhing tongue inside of your pussy. Hanzo and Jesse were everywhere all at once, sating your hunger as quickly as it appeared. Their mouths claimed every inch of skin they could find, the hot flash of teeth and tongue on your neck leaving you to gasp for air. You thrust your hips forward, shame long abandoned to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. Please, you begged, just at the precipice of orgasm. Suddenly, deft fingers latched onto your aching clit, hard and punishing; you rocked with them, winding tighter and tighter until-

You woke up.

Slowly, the world came back to you, trickling in like a leaking faucet. Your mouth was dry; your heart pounded in your ears. You felt overheated, damp with sweat where you were sandwiched between Jesse and Hanzo- oh shit, Jesse and Hanzo .

“Sweetheart?”

And there was Jesse.

He was leaning over you, lit up by the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. Bracing yourself, you looked into his eyes, surprised to find concern instead of the amusement you expected.

“Are you alright, darlin’? It looked like you were having a pretty intense nightmare, there.”

Wait- nightmare?

“You nearly pushed me off of the bed,” interjected Hanzo from behind you, voice betraying his worry. It was only then that you noticed the rumpled blankets, piled up where you had tried to kick them off. Shit.

In response, you simply rolled over and tucked your flaming face into Jesse’s chest, unwilling to correct their conclusion. Jesse allowed this for a moment, but soon took your chin in hand, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, now, you don’t have to hide from me–from us. There’s no shame in bein’ a little shook up by a bad dream, sweetheart. Hell, even I get scared by what my brain decides to cook up sometimes,” the man said, sealing his words with a kiss to your forehead. You felt a tiny bit of guilt gnaw at you as he settled back down onto his side, bleary eyes watching yours for any sign of distress. But it wasn’t really lying, right? How would they ever even find out?

“Come here,” said Hanzo, snaking his arm around your waist. You went freely, fighting a shiver as you felt his familiar body conform to yours. “You are safe, my love,” he whispered, “in this bed, you are safe.” With that, your boyfriend pressed his lips to your neck, ghosting over it as he had in your fantasy. Your body reacted accordingly, hips rolling forward and a gasp hitching in your chest. You slapped a hand over your mouth, but it was too late; the room was fraught with tension, none of you daring to even breathe. Well, fuck.

“Sweetheart-”

“I-”

Silence once again.

“Do you need us to sleep somewhere else, darlin’? It’s alright if-”

“No!” you exclaimed, eyes wide. Jesse searched your face for the truth, scrutinizing your awkward expression. You avoided meeting his eyes, shifting under the weight of Hanzo’s arm. Slowly, the cowboy seemed to put two and two together, lips pulling together into a dimpled smirk.

“Hanzo, I don’t think our baby girl had a nightmare."

Kill me, kill me, kill me, you chanted inside of your head, feeling Hanzo’s grip tighten as he caught up to the idea. For a split second, you considered actually lying, dismissing it just as quickly when you saw Jesse's smirk turn devilish.

"Is that true, beloved?” Hanzo asked, breath warm on your ear, “Are you trying to hide something from us?”

This time, you couldn’t suppress your shiver. Damn, Hanzo and Jesse knew just how to play you.

“You naughty little slut,” admonished Jesse, “Let’s see how wet you are under those panties of yours.” Lightning-quick, the man reached under the covers, hooking his fingers into the offending piece of fabric. Viciously, he tore them down, yanking your knees forward in order to get them all the way off. Your breath caught in your throat as he brought your panties into the hazy light of the bedroom, showing off the soaked inner lining.

“Well, would ya look at that? Our baby girl made a mess of herself, Hanzo. What should we do about this?”

Holy shit, you were going to die, right here in this bed.

“I think,” spoke Hanzo, voice gravelly, “that we should make her clean it up.”

And fuck, if that didn’t make you even wetter. Jesse considered you for a moment, eyes gaining a ferocious gleam as he noticed your quickly-growing arousal. Without preamble, he pushed your underwear into your mouth, wrapping them around two of his thick fingers. Instantly, you began to suck, tongue working around the cloth. Jesse pushed deeper and deeper in response, nearly activating your gag reflex. As it was, your eyes swam with tears, barely able to make out your boyfriend’s face turning deathly serious as he concentrated on you. Hanzo, unwilling to be left out, began to knead his hands into your flesh, pulling your sleep shirt up in order to play with your quickly hardening nipples. His scorching-hot mouth then sank onto your skin once more, lavishing your neck with kisses. You could hardly think, hardly breathe. Desperate sounds came from deep in your chest, muffled by Jesse’s unrelenting fingers.

Minutes, or maybe hours, flew by before your panties were taken from your mouth. You drew in a greedy breath, panting from sheer desire. God, how much more could you take? You were positively soaked at this point, aching with a need for friction. You knew better than to try and seek your own release, yet you still gasped when Hanzo snatched your hands away from your throbbing clit, reprimanding you with a harsh bite to the shoulder. A hoarse cry tore from your throat, reverberating loudly in the dark bedroom.

“You,” drawled Jesse, “have been a bad, bad girl, princess. First, you made a fucking mess of your panties, which you tried to hide from us. Then, you went and played with your tight little pussy even when you know you’re not allowed to. I think you’ve earned yourself a punishment, slut.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck , that could mean anything. Punishments from Hanzo and Jesse were rare, but you knew you were in deep, deep shit regardless. And if his predatory grin was any indication, Jesse knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Hanzo, put her on her back. I want her begging by the time I’ve finished tying her up.”

With that, your world was disoriented, your view changing to that of Hanzo’s face right above yours. You felt more than saw Jesse getting off of the bed, quickly distracted by your other lover smothering you with a savage kiss. You did your best to reciprocate, but you were no match for Hanzo’s overwhelming influence. You could feel his hard cock pressing into your thigh where he straddled you, covered only by his cotton briefs. Before you could even think about moving your hands towards it, though, they were captured once more and pressed up above your head; holy shit, Hanzo moved fast.

“What a little whore,” Hanzo spoke, finally allowing you to draw in a breath, “So desperate for cock, you poor thing. How did you ever survive before we came along?”

Jesus Christ.

Hanzo, satisfied by your stunned silence, turned back to the task at hand, finally tearing off your shirt and sucking hickeys onto your bare chest. His goatee was coarse against your feverish skin as you rose up to meet him, writhing beneath his iron grip. You threw your head back, only opening your eyes when you felt Jesse grabbing your now-unoccupied wrist. In his other hand you saw a length of red rope, a frequent addition to your bedroom activities.

“Color?” Jessie asked, momentarily abandoning his dominating façade. Hanzo paused as well, considering you like he might consider his bow; serious and straightforward. You sucked in a deep breath, stomach swooping in anticipation when you croaked out a confident “green”.

With that, you were pulled back into Hanzo’s blazing inferno, hands and teeth and tongue setting your skin aflame. As Jesse maneuvered your wrist into a complicated cuff pattern, Hanzo took hold of your nipples once more, rolling one between his fingers as the other was caught between his teeth. Christ above, it was like someone had injected fire straight into your veins.

“You likin’ that, baby girl?” Came Jesse’s voice, off to the other side now and distinctly smug. You sent him a glare, tempered by the heady sensation of satiny rope being pulled against your sensitive skin. Jesse merely winked back, his roguish attitude written all over his relaxed-yet-confident posture. With one final flourish of the cowboy’s fingers, your hands were firmly tied to the headboard, spreading out to either side of you in a comfortable stretch of your shoulders. Before you could get too settled, however, Hanzo was moving his rough, calloused hands towards your hips–with a jerk, you were pulled flush against him, his erection just barely grazing your sex. Two forearms planted themselves next to your head, decisively caging you in.

“Jesse, tie her up like this. I want to make sure we have plenty of room to fuck her without restraint.”

God. You couldn’t believe Hanzo’s mouth.

“You got it, boss,” Jesse replied easily, taking your ankle in his hand. Heat curled low in your gut as your legs were spread wide by the cowboy’s unyielding grip, exposing you to Hanzo’s hungry gaze. The heat multiplied as Hanzo adjusted his hips, your own twitching up to meet him halfway. Yes, yes, yes, you thought, nearly salivating in anticipation. Slowly, ever so slowly, the archer began to roll his pelvis against yours, finally giving you the friction you had been craving. It was heaven; it was perfect. Hanzo steadily began to increase his rhythm, grunts of pleasure growing louder and louder along with your punched-out gasps. The man loved to do this with you, spending hours grinding on you as you cuddled to watch a movie or even as you were falling asleep in his arms.

“That’s it, beloved. Can you feel my cock? Do you want it?” Frantically, you nodded, head swimming in a slurry of arousal and desperation. “Then beg for it, you whore.”

Fuck. You could barely think a coherent word, much less say them–but you tried anyway, panting a quiet oh and yes and please as sweetly as you could. The archer only gave a noncommittal sigh in response, clearly unimpressed by your performance.

“How disappointing, Jesse; it sounds as though our little whore doesn’t want to be fucked after all,” came Hanzo's patronizing voice, sinking low in your stomach–the man never made empty threats, especially in the bedroom. A teasing slip of Jesse’s hand set you to begging, words tumbling past your lips before you could even process them. “God, please, please, Hanzo, fuck, Jesse, please, fuck me!” you cried, pleading your case in a way that could make a porn star blush. After a moment of stunned silence, all three of you came back to your senses.

“Fuck,” Jesse snarled, chest heaving. “Fuck.”

In a flurry of motion, he was tying you off, finishing the cuff on your other ankle; then he was diving towards you, capturing your mouth with his in an animalistic mix of lips and teeth. Small, possessive noises issued from the cowboy’s throat, buzzing on your tongue like the bubbles of a sweet champagne. A scorching hand burned down the lines of your body, setting your newly-formed bruises alight with sensation. You shivered in anticipation–you wanted, needed Jesse and Hanzo inside of you now.

All thinking stopped, however, when deft fingers finally reached your oversensitive clit; you jackknifed upwards, breaking your kiss with Jesse. Your hips bucked under Hanzo’s weight as you gulped in air, starving for oxygen and touch in equal measure.

“That’s it, slut,” Jesse said, voice rigid. His eyes were positively wild, stormy with need from where he was hovering over you. A glance at Hanzo’s face revealed much of the same. You imagined that this is what it must feel like to be a ship in a storm, to be something so small in comparison to nature’s unparalleled power. You opened your mouth in silent prayer as Jesse’s fingers laved over your sopping cunt, dragging them over your lips like the pages of a book. Without warning, he slipped two thick fingers inside of you, stretching you open while working his thumb in small circles over your clit. Oh, God. Your dream couldn’t even begin to compare to the actual feeling of Jesse’s hand, moving in and out with enough force to rock your whole body. Lewd noises filled your ears, setting off yet another round of sparks fizzling through you. A familiar surge of pleasure began to crescendo in the pit of your stomach, drawing out more breathless whimpers from somewhere high in your throat. However, just before you could reach your orgasm, Jesse’s thumb slipped from your throbbing clit, leaving you to clench around his fingers to no avail. Fuck, fuck, no! Just a little more...

Your eyes opened to meet Jesse’s face, finding that his impish smirk had slipped back on.

“Awww, darlin’, ya look so sad,” the man teased, crooking his fingers just to make you whine. “Don’t worry though, we’re just getting started…”

Equal measures of excitement and dread shot through you at his words. Hanzo and Jesse, while loving boyfriends, knew exactly how to push every single one of your buttons; in short, they could be assholes. Beautiful, sexy, lovable assholes. Paying your trepidation no heed, Jesse withdrew his hand from your hole, leaving you empty and shivering. Jesus, you were a mess.

“Wanna taste?” Jesse asked–but he wasn’t talking to you. No, he was offering his hand to Hanzo, who regarded the cowboy with relentless heat in his gaze. A silent something passed between them, before Hanzo was leaning in and taking the slick digits in his mouth, staring into Jesse’s eyes the entire time.

“Good, right?” Jesse said, voice gravelly once more. Hanzo simply hummed in response, before withdrawing once again. Another tense moment slipped by, in which it got harder and harder to remember how to breathe. Jesse’s eyes flicked downwards, then back up to Hanzo, seeming to ask a question; nearly imperceptibly, the archer nodded, drawing in a short breath when Jesse’s hand moved down to grasp the hem of his underwear. You bit your lip as Hanzo’s cock was revealed, red and leaking at the tip. With just a touch of Jesse’s fingers, precum was dripping onto your stomach, increasing your own arousal tenfold. Leisurely, the cowboy began to jerk Hanzo off, grip loose and taunting.

“Look at our girl, Hanzo,” Jesse commanded, swiping his thumb over the other man’s cockhead. “Look at how fuckin’ desperate she is for you”.

Hanzo’s eyes snapped to yours, and you felt the full weight of his attention crash down on you– fuck, he looked feral, lips pressed in a snarl and dark hair falling just past his chin. You couldn’t help but look away, feeling suffocated by Hanzo’s gaze; however, a metallic hand grasped your cheeks, wrenching your head back to look at your powerful lovers above you.

“Eyes up here, slut,” Jesse reprimanded, “I want you to watch him as he ruins that pussy of yours, understood?” You nodded. “Good. And don’t you fuckin’ dare cum before I tell you to, or else I’ll edge you for a week straight, got it?” Another nod, and he finally relinquished his hold on you, leaving a dull pain that you hoped would flower into bruises.

As you were told, you kept your eyes trained on Hanzo’s face, watching his eyes flutter as his cock was guided to your entrance. Once, twice, he slipped out, before he was slowly pushing in, inch by inch. God, he filled you perfectly. Finally, as Hanzo sank completely into you, Jesse relinquished his hold, stepping away to admire how the archer curved around you like a great beast getting ready to devour a meal. Arms shaking, Hanzo fell onto his elbows for support, hot breath sweeping over your face. He was close enough now that you could see beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow. You were the only one who got to see Hanzo like this, aside from Jesse–it was a fact that never seemed to get old, no matter how many times you had joined him in bed. Equally as tantalizing was the slide of his cock inside of you, beginning to move in short, calculated thrusts. Instinctively, you clenched down, earning a warning glare from Hanzo–but you were already in trouble, weren’t you? What would be the harm in doing a little teasing of your own?

Staring Hanzo in the eye, you purposely flexed your muscles once more, feeling a hot rush of slick slowly drip out of you. In a momentary lapse of control, Hanzo buried his head into your shoulder, letting out a strangled moan. You couldn’t keep from responding with a shit-eating grin, putting Jesse’s own signature smirk to shame. However, your expression dropped as you caught Hanzo’s thunderous face, towering over you as he rose back onto his hands and knees.

Oh, shit.

“You. Worthless. Whore. ” the man hissed, jaw clenched, “It seems as though you need to be reminded of your place.”

With surgical precision, Hanzo bottomed out inside of you, pausing for just a moment before retreating once again. Another thrust, and it was clear that your self-control would be pushed to the limit; already, you were falling apart, legs shaking from the sheer effort it took to hold back your orgasm. But Hanzo took no mercy on you, setting a steady rhythm that had you moaning helplessly. Fuck, this was getting difficult-

“Jesse, bring me the vibrator.”

God fucking dammit, you thought, your stomach dropping. Without so much as a stutter in his hips, Hanzo took the wand from Jesse’s outstretched hand, watching you intently as he nestled it right next to your clitoris. Your eyes flickered between the two sights, drinking in the sheer power your lover held over you. Then, with a click of a button, you were straining upwards, feeling as though you were being wrenched straight out of your body. Another click, and the vibrations grew even more intense; you longed to bury your hand in Hanzo’s hair, to scratch your nails across his muscled back, to do anything but sit there and take it. Each breath you drew in was cut off by the next, a staccato beat matching the rhythm of your racing pulse. You were close, so close that you could taste it on your tongue– shit!

“Did you really think I would let you cum, slut?” Hanzo asked, still thrusting in and out of your hole without care. Your whole body shuddered helplessly, hypersensitive after being denied once again. As you attempted to catch your breath, Hanzo reached down and twisted your swollen nipple, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

“I asked you a question, whore; answer me,” the archer commanded, practically growling, “Do you think you deserve to cum on my cock?” As if to punctuate his question, Hanzo slammed his hips forward, fucking you hard enough to pull against the ties at your ankles.

“Fuck! No!” you screamed, on the verge of tears. Your voice was wrecked with desperation, hoping beyond hope that the teasing would be over soon. However, you were soon at the mercy of the vibrator once again, letting out a whine at the feeling of it on your tortured clit. Hanzo sped up his pace, sitting up on his knees to watch every inch of your thoroughly marked body writhe underneath him. “That is right, you cumwhore. You do not deserve the honor of an orgasm at my hand. You are lucky that I am willing to fuck you in the first place.”

The vibrator was shut off once more, and you humped against it frantically, reserve long abandoned. “Go ahead, you stupid whore,” Hanzo encouraged, “Humiliate yourself. I want to see how pathetic you look when you cry.” A sob flew from your lips as the toy buzzed to life, only to be shut off seconds later, then turned on again, a sadistic pattern that made your hips jump and stutter on Hanzo’s cock. You could feel the archer’s perfect rhythm begin to falter, signaling his quickly-approaching climax; his moans burned hot on your skin, sending wave after wave of throbbing pleasure through your trembling body. Finally, you felt Hanzo seize up, almost uncannily still in the wake of his orgasm. Scorching cum flooded your hole, arousing enough to make your battered walls flutter with desire. A few heartbeats later, and Hanzo was crashing back down over you, gulping in air like a dying man. Tenderly, he pressed his sweaty forehead against yours, love and awe written in his furrowed brows and slackened mouth. As he breathed against you, you could feel your own hitching breaths slow, agonising desire fading just slightly into a dull roar.

Two pairs of hands whispered over your body, freeing your limbs from their confines, massaging the marks imprinted upon you by the ropes. You felt yourself float away just a little, untethered by chaste kisses pressed to your cheeks and soft hands stroking your thighs. Hanzo’s shifting body weight brought you back to the present, where Jesse was taking his place between your legs; Hanzo unceremoniously flopped to the side, grace all but forgotten in his post-orgasm haze. Your eyes opened slowly to see Jesse looking down at you, positively fit to burst with quiet affection. You smiled back, tensed and eager all the same.

"Ya did so good, darlin'," Jesse said, tone far softer now, "So good for us. Are ya ready for your reward?"

The praise melted into your skin, smoothing the raw edges that had been so expertly laid bare by Hanzo. With a simple nod, Jesse leaned in to kiss you once more, as slow and saccharine as honey. You embraced him in return, palms gliding over the coarse and ruddy plains of his cheeks; you felt like you were glowing from the inside out. Like a wave drawing across the sand, Jesse retreated, hands whispering down to your thighs. The rest of his body followed close behind, settling down between your legs with practiced ease.

"So beautiful, sweetheart," Jesse praised, "I can't wait to make you cum."

And there it was again, the knife's edge of hot desire. Almost subconsciously, you weaved your hands through Jesse's locks, giving them a tug. Jesse groaned deep in his chest, rekindling the flames in your gut. Your cowboy was so responsive. You pulled his hair again, set alight as Jesse muffled his moans into your sweat-soaked thigh.

“You’re gonna kill me, darlin’,” Jesse threatened, kissing his way towards your drenched pussy. A witty retort died in your throat as his tongue flattened against your swollen lips, lapping at the obscene mixture of cum and slick slowly dripping out of you. “Fuck,” you breathed, struck senseless by the hot-wet pleasure of Jesse’s plush mouth. An answering groan rang in your ears as the cowboy finally dipped his writhing tongue into your hole, drinking in the lewd slurry with feverish dedication. Your hands tightened into fists, pulling Jesse further and further in until his nose was pressed flat against your pussy. You whined; a sharpness ran through you along with pleasure, heightening each in a whirlwind of sensation.

Breathless, Jesse pulled back for a moment, sucking in air like a drowning man. In the low light, you could just make out the shine of your slick soaking the cowboy’s goatee–holy shit, that’s hot. Then, with fervor, Jesse was back to it, making you yelp as he latched onto your clit. You ground against him, his tongue sending shockwaves up and down your body; you were shaking with the oh-god-too-much of it all. Every inhale was a battle. Every movement made you see stars. Then, finally, finally, Jesse tore himself from your body, looking you in the eye as he said, “Cum for me, sweetheart."

You felt the command flow through you, breaking down walls and crashing into your nervous system. Jesse bent his head and sucked your clit hard, bringing you to the very edge once again. Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm, he encouraged you, nearly whimpering; he was bucking his hips, and fuck, fuck, fuck, shit! You were cumming into Jesse’s mouth, vision whited out by a dazzling starburst. Your legs crashed into the cowboy’s face, pinning him to your gushing pussy as you rode out your orgasm; your whole body was spasming, uncontrollable with pleasure. Then, like a puppet cut loose, you were limp, releasing Jesse from your death grip.

The cowboy shot to his knees, ripping his boxers off as fast as possible; his flushed cock was bared, aching and practically dripping precum. "Fuck, babygirl," he moaned, hand flying, "I'm gonna-fuck, I'm gonna cum!" A final groan, and Jesse was falling off the edge with you, release streaking against your rolling abdomen--followed quickly by Jesse actually falling on top of you.

"Holy shit," you laughed, "Get the hell off of me, you jerk!" A gargled mess that might have been a "no" was your only response for a moment, before the pile of sweat and various sexual fluids that was your boyfriend rolled off of you. You couldn't help but giggle at his dramatics--god, you loved your idiots. A moment of silence permeated the room, until you yawned; oh yeah, it's like three A.M...

"If you two are done, I believe it is time for some aftercare," said Hanzo, sounding equally as tired. With his help, you got up, only to fold in half from the sore feeling radiating through your pelvis--fucking fuck, you forgot how much of a bitch this could be. Seeing your discomfort, Hanzo scooped you up, carrying you to the en-suite bathroom. You heard Jesse follow you in, fetching a second set of sheets from the linens cabinet. Carefully, you were set by the toilet, Hanzo turning to allow you some privacy. After finishing your business, you were escorted to the shower, where the archer tenderly cleaned you off. From there, things got blurry--you vaguely remembered the smell of arnica cream, the feeling of a soothing wipe on your swollen lips, strong arms carrying you to bed, and a tender kiss placed on your forehead. Then, you were off to sleep, dreamless and peaceful.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Likes are appreciated, reblogs/comments keep me writing! Let me know what you thought, your favorite passage, or even what time you're reading this at (bonus points if it's 1 A.M. or later). Toodles! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

[autisticandroids]

Oh patron saint of mpreg, tell us, what is the absolute gold standard canon divergent mpreg scenario with Cas and Dean?

so for me the gold standard is for cas to get pregnant due to some kind of magical or metaphysical situation that dean at least does not perceive as sex. bonus points is cas is hesitant about it but refuses to explain why (because he doesn't know how dean will deal with the concept of himself being able to potentially get cas pregnant), so dean is like "we're doing it anyway" and then they do it and then cas doesn't tell anyone that he is pregnant until circumstances force the information out of him. and then dean has to deal with the fact that 1) cas can get pregnant, 2) cas is pregnant, 3) it's his, and he does so pretty poorly.

the rest is under a cut because this post is over 2.5k words long.

my favorite times for this to happen are at the end of season nine, just before dean dies and gets demonized in do you believe in miracles, and at the start of season twelve, just before sam and dean go to jail, because the pining in both those scenarios is delicious but it is so much more powerful if cas is also pregnant, and never even told dean. double points if the truth somehow comes out while they're separated so when dean comes back it's like. yeah cas is pregnant. it's yours. welcome home dean now you have to coddle cas' emotions because he thought he would have to raise your baby alone.

the season twelve scenario is particularly delicious because 1) we can have lucifer slut shaming cas in front of crowley in rock never dies, so crowley knows before dean, and 2) much more importantly, mary is there, and i am obsessed with like. okay. several things.

- the idea of mary getting all baby fever because she misses her boys and this is like. a baby she can take care of because she never got to take care of sam

- the idea of dean working through some of his parentification trauma by coparenting a child with the parent whose place he felt he had to take

- the idea of mary coming in and projecting her insane 1980s gender roles all over cas, suddenly treating him like a woman, stripping him of agency, etc. and like. dean would also do this even though he's not from the eighties, but mary would do it double strength, and they would reinforce each other, it would be a nightmare

- also mary trying to relate to cas on the Travails Of Motherhood etc. and cas being like ?????????? like i cannot stress enough that the weird gender roles she projects onto cas are also standards that she held herself to back when she was a Wife And Mother. while cas is like mary i am not a human woman and also i don't see what "having to look pretty for my man when i'm all baby bloaty" has to do with anything. that's not something i feel like i have to do

oh and 3) could you imagine lily sunder has some regrets if cas was pregnant? unfathomable episode. like ishim and mirabel's reaction but ALSO lily's. and it would fix the number one issue i have with lily sunder, which is that the resolution of the moral dilemma is "well AKSHUALLY the kid was human and not a nephilim so killing it was bad" rather than "it was bad to kill lily's baby, full stop." like ishim's cover up and using the machinery of power to manipulate the truth is very compelling, but the fact that it results in the moral essentially being "it would have been okay if the kid had been a nephilim" suuuuuucks.

basically, there's a reason i have two entire mpreg aus set in season twelve.

and then the delicious part in the season nine version is like. one, dean is away for much longer and he could be anywhere. also he's a demon and he's cheating on cas with crowley. and then even when cas gets him back he's still cursed with the mark, so we can get all weepy over that. you know. i'm the one who's going to have to watch you murder the world and i'm eight months pregnant. etc etc.

but the other thing that's juicy about this version is that cas is still semi-involved with the other angels at this point, like he's roadtripping around with hannah and they're trying to get heaven under control, so carrying a nephil is going to really affect those relationships. so he's going to be probably disliked by the other angels, and there are MANY opportunities for slut-shaming, but at the same time, the other "outcast" type angels might respect him for violating heaven's dictates.

and then of course there's his grace vampirism victorian wasting disease. in canon he's perfectly happy to let himself die, but if he were having dean's baby he would absolutely not do that, that's dean's baby he's endangering there. so of course there's the terrible guilt of having to kill other angels so he can live, plus potentially preparing to die shortly after childbirth so he doesn't have to keep killing. delicious.

and on top of all this cas can get slutshamed by metatron in, depending on when exactly he gets knocked up, meta fiction, stairway to heaven, and do you believe in miracles. plus stairway to heaven would be insane like all the angels would know that cas is pregnant. they would see it in his grace. like cas' angel army would just. know that he was pregnant with a nephil, and have to accept that because he's their leader. in love with humanity indeed.

i'm trying to think of other good times for this drama with cas getting secretly pregnant through a nonsexual interaction to take place. it would be great in season six. like: he's doing a blasphemy with his body but at the same time he's this big important rebel leader so they can't say shit about him, and also he's pregnant while fighting these big important battles (fun and sexy), AND this is like, hot on the heels of the realization that something about his feelings for dean is untoward, expands beyond the bounds of ordinary friendship and camaraderie. like he realizes that, and maybe even that he has sexual feelings for dean, and then he gets immediately knocked up. stunning.

it would ALSO be extremely fun for it to be some kind of... i don't know, magical longer gestation times, whatever, but for cas to have gotten pregnant sometime in s5 and only realized during the Year Of Lisa. LOVE to watch a man rake leaves while both metaphorically carrying the taint of taboo sexual feelings for him and literally carrying his child.

but the thing about season six is, first of all, cas isn't really... envisioning a future with dean. not the way he does in the later seasons. like does he fantasize about a future with dean? yes. like. he really did watch that motherfucker rake leaves. but it's only fantasy. he expected to never speak to dean again after swan song until dean prayed to him in the third man. he's obsessed with dean, but it's distant. remote.

like, we talk about cas babytrapping dean in the later seasons with jack, and he absolutely does, and he would do it even more if dean got him literally pregnant, but that babytrap is about... how do i put this. it's about winning dean's affection. late seasons cas knows that he's going to die by dean's side. the difference that babytrapping dean makes is that maybe it will get dean to be nice to him in the mean time, instead of discarding him like so much toilet paper.

but season six cas doesn't think of it like that. if he were gonna babytrap dean, it would be in the more traditional sense of forcing dean to stay with him in order to raise their child together. and he would never do that. he wants dean to have a happy future, which in his mind does not include him. like, compare here "he's retired and he's to stay that way" in the man who would be king, where cas assumes that dean is happy without him and expects him to live out his days peacefully without ever seeing him again, to "i'm the one who's going to have to watch you murder the world" in the prisoner, where cas assumes that he will be by dean's side for centuries.

but anyway, the other, much more important problem with season six is that cas has a war to fight. like, in the later seasons, cas really has nothing. even when he's on tenuous good terms with the angels, he doesn't really have a home with them. the winchesters are his family, and he'd give up anything for them. he has nothing in his life. he's at rock bottom, and this becomes truer the further along you go. late seasons cas has nothing he would prioritize over serving the winchesters, and he would be happy dropping anything he was involved in to have and raise dean's baby. parenting would give him a purpose that he no longer has, because everything else has been stripped from him.

but in season six cas has a life outside of them. like yes, he has a war to fight, but he also has a place in heaven, with the other angels. he belongs somewhere, he has solid connections to the outside world. even if he didn't have a war to fight, i don't know how excited he would be to have and raise a baby (even dean's baby) because he simply has other things he could be doing. he's involved in the world beyond the winchesters.

like, the reason cas wants to be a parent is that he is totally alone and totally purposeless. having a child gives him both a reason for being and someone who will always love him and who he can care for. if he doesn't have that hole in his life he might not be so eager to fill it with a baby.

for all these reasons, this plotline really doesn't work in season six, because you simply cannot justify cas not getting an abortion, unless you do something nasty like make angel abortion impossible, which i don't love.

you COULD somehow put the impregnation just at the end of season six, maybe just before the man who would be king, such that cas doesn't realize he's pregnant until he's already godstiel. you guys are unfortunately very aware of how obsessed i am with pregnant godstiel.

actually, @jeanne-de-valois has a concept of like. a single, madness fueled midnight hookup immediately pre-tmwwbk (or maybe even during, but prior to the superman mistake), where cas is simultaneously so stressed from being stretched so thin from the war and the lying and the shady dealings, and so high on being The Big Man In Heaven, that he's bold and out of his mind enough to actually come onto dean, like he just appears one night in dean's bedroom and is like, fuck me, and dean is like 👁👄👁 okay. so they have one single adrenaline and madness fueled hookup, and then everything immediately goes to shit.

and i think that's a great place for cas to get pregnant, and then he doesn't realize until he's become god, or maybe he does and he's just like "i'll deal with it later," either way godstiel is like oh? i carry dean's heir inside me? i will have dean's baby. i will have dean's baby it is my right and also my boon to him and also a symbol of my great and magnanimous love for humanity. and also maybe i will put giant paintings of myself pregnant with his child up in churches. what about that. which would be fun. don't know when he would give birth though. actually it would be insane if he gave birth as emmanuel and was just like. raising dean's nephil when dean found him again. nuts. but it just doesn't really have the same flavor as late seasons mpreg. doesn't compel me nearly as much. like the symbolism of godstiel being pregnant with dean's child is fun and sexy but them actually raising the kid afterwards doesn't compel me nearly as much, so it's better to leave literal mpreg to the later seasons and let godstiel mpreg reside in symbolism and fantasy.

or maybe the fetus gets stolen by the leviathans when cas walks into the lake and dean has to battle his leviathanated nephil daughter as the main villain of s7. like she's dick roman's secret weapon. i think that would be fun, actually. kind of an emma situation but drawn out over the whole season. and he thinks cas is dead for most of it so she's all he's got left of cas and a mess cas left for him to clean up. big sexy.

and as a bonus, i will also tell you the best time, imo, for dean to get pregnant: near the end of season eight. possibly a single, tragic farewell fuck in sacrifice when cas is planning to lock himself away in heaven and they're never gonna see each other again. and this impregnates dean with cas' nephil.

but then cas is human. and he can't do anything about it. like generally if they managed to get dean pregnant somehow, cas would immediately talk him into an abortion (which wouldn't be too hard; dean's natural white midwestern man who doesn't vote aversion to abortion would be at war with the horror of being pregnant, and the horror would win), or might not even inform dean that he's pregnant, and just quietly end the pregnancy without dean's knowledge, because cas would never put dean through that. but if cas is human, he can't do that. and furthermore, that nephil is the last evidence of his angelic nature that persists. it's the last of what he used to be, the last of his grace. and there's something absolutely delectable about that.

then of course dean would have to leave the bunker if he was pregnant with a nephil, because angels would be after him, and he wouldn't want to lead them to gadreel, so i am imagining dean discovering that he's pregnant and then showing up in a panic at the gas n sip like "actually cas i'm also out of the bunker will you go on the run with me?" and then they go on the run and have to live in motels again and cas gets to live with take care of dean who is pregnant with his child which is essentially his dream, and he doesn't have to feel guilty because he's no longer capable of giving dean an abortion so he doesn't feel obligated to get him to have one. ideally cas gets re-angeled just in time to give dean an angelic c-section. or maybe they rely on a normal human c-section in a hospital and cas stays human and they are two humans raising their nephil, which is also fun to me.

[lubdubsworld]

Blackberry Winters.

Part 1

Check part one for warnings 💔

Part 2.

Namjoon stared at his mother, her words registering but not quite sinking in. He blinked, a couple of times and swallowed dryly, trying to gather his wits that felt like they'd been scattered to the four winds. There was a dull ringing in his ear, a feeling of impending horror and he had to fight to bring himself back to the present.

"She is...?" He couldn't even say it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised the irony of it. It wasn't supposed to makes him feel that way. The reason he had taken her to bed was for this : a heir to take over the duties of the head alpha after him. And yet, he knew that he couldn't just ignore all the things that would come with having a pregnant mate. All the added responsibility.

At the heart of it , Namjoon was exhausted.

He had been trained for this position but it didn't make it any easier. His wolf yearned for solitude and serenity, peaceful quiet where he could contemplate life and all its mysteries but the duties and responsibilities kept piling up. He had no time to indulge in such whimsical fantasies. From daybreak to sundown, he drowned in problems that demanded solutions, issues that required his intervention and he was always giving so much of himself to so many.

It was as taking a toll.

And now here was the promise of another new soul. A pup. Fully dependant on him for survival. It was hard to be ecstatic.

" Why do you look so surprised? Have you not been sleeping with her?" She frowned, moving closer to the small wooden bench in the corner of the room. She sat down, primly adjusting the large swathes of her skirt. Even at her age, she was a beauty and despite being a widow, she was treated with great respect by all the wolves in the clan.

" I have... Of course...I just didn't expect her to ...so soon. " He muttered hesitantly. He made a quick calculation, Conceived at the end of autumn meant the child would be born at the end of summer. Rains and more rains. He would have to commission the weavers to make a lot of warm blankets and thick bedding for the babe. And make sure that all the birthing huts had their roofs mended. He felt an ache in his chest. He knew he had to have a heir. It was part of what he was responsible for. But he wasn't ready to be a father yet. Especially not with someone like her.

" You haven't been very subtle in your disdain for her, Joon. It makes me wonder of perhaps I have failed in teaching you the ways of a husband." His mother's sharp voice made him wince.

His parents had been deeply in love with each other. His mother had been an equal contributor in running the clan, his father's most trusted confidante. He couldn't imagine having something like that with the woman he had rather recklessly chained himself to for life. But he couldn't be openly defiant in front of his mother.

So he bowed.

" I've tried to talk to her mother. She looks at me like I'm some marauding villain."

Lady Kim scoffed.

" Because, for all she knows, you may as well be one. Think of who she is, how she was raised. Her mother died when she was eight and she has been keeping house for her father since then. It Is a miracle she knows how to read a few words and to write her own name. Old man Gong is unkind and cruel and I've only ever watched him treat her like an unruly dog that needed discipline and never like his own flesh and blood. She knows men to be cruel and powerful and capable of doing her great harm. Add to it your status as the head of the clan, of course she thinks you're dangerous. "

" am I to be blamed for her childhood now?"

" Don't be obtuse. That is not what I'm saying. I just want you to consider her upbringing, before you write her off as dramatic or hysterical. "

Namjoon sighed deeply.

" Alright, mother. I'll try to talk to her again. "

And he knew that he had to. If he wanted some semblance of peace in his life, he would have to make an effort with his wife.

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

Jiah sat by the haybale near the barn, cross-legged on the dirty floor as she watched Misu and Loshim, two of the stable boys tend to the horses. She stared at the careful way they brushed the large beasts, their tone gentle and soothing as they murmured reassurance to the agitated animals. She found it fascinating, how even an animal that powerful could feel fear and anxiety. It made her feel better about her own shortcomings.

From a very young age, she had known of her flaws. She was jittery, prone to cold sweats and breathing problems, easily frightened and absolutely terrified of confrontation of any kind. Her parents had been, to put it lightly, unkind. They had seen her as a burden, as something broken and useless and cumbersome and that had done nothing for her self esteem.

To make matters worse, they didn't let her attend lessons with the other omega girls, her education limited to scribbled writing on granite with chalk when her father was feeling bored or charitable. She could read a few words with difficulty . Could write her name out if you gave her some time and patience.

At first, her ignorance had been embarassing but over time she realised her education wouldn't serve her much purpose.

She thought of herself as something temporary and fleeting. Not meant to leave any lasting impression on the world. So it was alright if she didn't know what every other girl her age did. She was going to live and die in that hut near the boundary walls..... She would have no use for fancy words or exotic dances.

Or so she hd always believed.

So when the head alpha had asked for her hand in marriage, she had nearly passed out from her heart giving out.

Namjoon was seven years older, almost thirty winters old and she had only ever caught glimpses of him when he came to check on her father's watchpost occasionally. He was a tall man, strapping and intimidating with dragon eyes that glowed red. And one evening he had stopped by her side when she had been tending the beets and potatoes in the small vegetable garden out back.

He had stared at her for a few long minutes while she had sweated in nervousness and then he had promptly asked for her father. When the man had Stepped in and told her father that he was looking to make her his bride, the old man had been jubilant while Jiah had been confounded.

She hadn't wanted to say yes but she had been too much of a coward to say no. Besides, she didn't know if saying no would have any repurcussions....she didn't want to risk offending the literal head of the entire clan. What if they banished her? What would become of her then?

And so she had said yes. And here she was.

Mated to the man for life, her wolf connected to his and his mark on her neck and now....his child in her womb.

She felt the familiar stirring of panic, digging her nails into her palm to ground herself .

Jiah had long come to terms with the fact that her mind was not her friend. It sometimes tried to attack her , tried to make her feel irrational things. It convinced her that she was a bother, that she was useless, that she was a burden. It also tried to tell her that she was in danger, that she had to run and avoid and get away, even when she was perfectly safe.

When she had first come here as the head Alphas new wife, her brain had wrecked havoc on her senses. Had made her feel like a hunted animal, always cowering and hiding and trying to disappear . Namjoon had tried to be friendly, tried to be courteous and all she had done was hide and recoil, skin ice cold and words practically non existent. She hadn't said a word to him those first few days and even the bedding had been a nightmare, her entire body stiff as a board and she knew that he had probably felt like he was making love to a corpse.

She regretted it. Deeply. But there was not much she could do about it now. Besides she wasn't sure she even wanted to. It was obvious her husband's affections lay elsewhere. She had seen the way he looked at that courtesan. Had seen him sneak out for walks with her, had seen them huddled together in the room with all the scrolls and leather bound books.

Jisoo was a beautiful omega, well read and trained in musical arts. She played the gayageum and the flute, knew how to entertain guests with a perfect ceremonial dance and she was always at the helm of every festivity, dressed in vibrant fabrics and full of life.

She was also madly in love with Namjoon.

Jiah sighed, watching the horses paw at the dirty stable floor. She wanted to get to know her husband, yes. But she knew that even if she did, he would only find her wanting and inadequate in all ways.

And that was just not acceptable .

She maybe self aware when it came to her short comings but she also had her pride.

She would rather live like this. Tucked away like an embarassment, hidden like a dirty secret because then there would be no piercing gaze weighing her against her peers and declaring her broken.

Yes.

Pregnant or not, she wanted nothing to do with her husband.

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

" Are you feeling well now?" Namjoon's voice startled her, eyes going wide as she looked around the resting quarters , gaze finally falling on the man standing near the large table on the side. Namjoon was bent over the rough oak surface , papers spread out in front of him, an oil lamp burning bright nearby, casting a sepia shadow on the man himself and she hesitated, debating the pros and cons of excusing herself to go see his mother instead. Maybe claiming a headache?

In the end she did neither, resolving to at least make an effort with this.

" I'm well, alpha. " She swallowed the lump in her throat. " I'm sorry for inconveniencing you. "

He straightened, turning around to look at her finally.

" Do you wish to move into another room?" He said briskly and she startled.

" Another room?"

" Now that you are with pup, there's no reason for us to keep sleeping together. I prefer having my own space. "

Jiah felt the blood rush through her ears. This shouldn't hurt but it did and she could feel the self loathing flood her senses. She stared down at herself, the lack of beauty and the utter lack of any kind of elegant upbringing. Of course he didn't want to stay with her any longer. What had she been thinking , agreeing to this farce of a mating?

" I... Alright. "

Namjoon turned away from her.

" Good. I've already arranged for all your things to be moved to the west wing , next to the gardens."

Far away from his rooms, Jiah thought bitterly. The sudden realization that Namjoon had been looking for some sort of brood mare and not a mate hit her . And it suddenly made sense that he hd picked her.

Someone easy to boss around.

Someone who wouldn't demand anything from him, loyalty or affection or attention .

And it irked her for some reason.

Why did he get to treat her that way? Why must she put up with it?

But she stayed quiet because she wasn't sure what to say.

" You can leave now, Jiah. " He said dismissively and she hesitated before stepping out of the room.

And she wondered if with her departure, someone else would be taking her place in his bed.

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

Authors Note : would you guys like first person narrative or should I continue in third person? 👀

[mypoisonedvine]

Second Chance | dark!Scott Lang x reader

summary: every perfect heist has five stages: identify the score, find your ‘in,’ enter unnoticed, get the score, and leave before anyone knows you were there. scott is good at heists, but not so good at relationships, family, or co-parenting with his ex. but he’s going to do it right this time, by starting a new family with you. he’s going to make sure you stay, by never letting you leave at all.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: noncon, stalking/yandere, breeding kink, overstimulation, kidnapping, innocence/corruption kink?, age gap, pregnancy, lil mention of lactation kink

note: this is set sometime around the plot of ant-man so cassie is still little, no snap/blip, none of that stuff!

Stage 1: Identify the score

Scott loved his daughter, but he hated having to share her with his ex-wife and her new husband.  

The stepdad wasn't a bad guy… annoying, but not dangerous or anything, so Scott figured he should count his blessings.  And Cassie was always a blessing.

But still, this was not the life he has envisioned for himself.  He had always wanted to have a family, and in his mind that had meant actually being with them.  Christmas around the fireplace, ice cream in the park, a dog named Rover— the whole shebang.  Instead he had postcards from vacations he wasn’t invited to, visits supervised by social workers, and far too many missed recitals and games and plays.  He couldn’t make up for time lost, he couldn’t undo everything that had ruined his shot at the picture-perfect family… but he could try again.

That’s where you came in.

Hank had introduced Scott to his new assistant one morning with almost no warning, and he’d been so flustered he almost forgot to shake your hand and greet you.  You had on this little blouse with ruffles that was just too precious, and sparkly gold earrings outshined only by your eyes.  He could imagine you by his side so easily, with gold on your finger to match, playing the part of his beautiful, obedient wife.

You were the perfect mark.  Young: therefore innocent, too trusting, and hopefully plenty fertile.  The fact that you were sweet and smart and adorable was just a bonus.  

It seemed like you had taken a liking to him too, although there was more of a mentor/mentee dynamic than he had originally intended; as if you looked up to him, as opposed to acknowledging the fact that he was single and attractive like you were supposed to.  Thankfully, he had a plan and he knew it was just a matter of time before he was going to get his second chance with you.

Stage 2: Find your ‘in.’

“Is this your card?” he asked, smiling when you nodded excitedly.

"Hey, you're pretty good!" you giggled as he slipped the playing card back into the deck.  "How long have you been doing magic?"

"Uh, not long," he admitted, "I just learned this stuff to impress my daughter."

Your face shifted and he knew he had you.  "Oh my god, that's so sweet!" you beamed.  You were looking at him like you thought he was the most adorable guy in the world, and he tried not to smile too hard because he finally had his in.  "You sound like an incredible dad."

"Well, I try…” he sighed, pulling for your sympathy, “it's tough only having her on weekends and stuff."

“Oh, I can’t even imagine,” you nodded with understanding.  You won’t have to, Scott replied internally.

“Eh, I survive,” he shrugged.  “When you love somebody that much… you take what you can get.”

He glanced away before looking back at you, admiring the puppy-dog eyes you were giving him.  

“You’ll understand someday— assuming you, you know, want kids and all that,” he stammered, testing the waters but breathing a sigh of relief when you grinned.

“Oh, definitely.  I mean, not right now, but definitely someday,” you agreed.  He laughed a little, amused by the way you foolishly believed you would get to decide you would have kids.  He probably would’ve still gone through with his plan even if you’d said you didn’t want any, but it was easier this way and he wanted to make sure his new family had a loving mother to care for them.

And loving was the only way to describe the expression on your face in that moment, presumably as you imagined your picturesque future.  He could only dream that he was somewhere in your fantasy, but it didn’t really matter since he was about to insert himself into your reality regardless.

You waved goodbye when he left the lab that night, not knowing that he was just going to wait in his car for you to leave so he could follow you home.  

Stage 3: Enter unnoticed.

Even though the stake out, like any, should’ve been horrifically boring, Scott found himself excited and oddly… peppy.  It must have been the knowledge that tonight he was going to start the rest of his life, with somebody who wouldn’t— or rather, couldn’t— leave and take his child away.  

At half-past one, when he was confident you were already completely asleep, he made his move.  Breaking into your apartment was disturbingly simple, making him even more glad that he was getting you out of this place: a woman living alone should really have better security.  The next issue was making sure you wouldn’t wake up when he took you.  Thankfully, he had science on his side in the form of a gas he’d stolen from Hank’s lab; it wasn’t dangerous, just something to keep you asleep through being taken to your new home.  All he had to do was pull the pin and roll the canister under your bedroom door, then give it time to clear so he could whisk you away.

There was still a little puff of smoke when he opened your bedroom door, but it didn't affect him— what did have an effect was the sight of you out cold on your bed.  You looked peaceful, innocent… like his perfect little wife, ready for the taking.

He let himself ogle only for a moment at your body exposed by the thin pajamas, running his fingers over your sleeping silhouette.  

You stirred slightly under his touch making him grin.  So sensitive already…

The weight of you in his arms was every he'd dreamed it would be and more.  So much waiting for his new lease on life, for his chance to do things right, and now all that he had to do was carry you home.

Stage 4: Get the score.

He waited for you to wake up, watching from the shadows as you slowly came to and tugged at your restraints.  To be clear, he didn’t enjoy your distress, but he knew it was necessary.  Plus, maybe he could comfort you and that idea excited him more than anything.

“Somebody help me!” you yelped, struggling uselessly against the ropes that secured each of your limbs to the bedposts.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” Scott finally interjected as he stepped out into the light, your head whipping around to look at him.  You looked relieved, for a moment.

“Scott,” you mumbled, “what are you doing here?  What… what happened?”

“Nothing happened, you’re going to be just fine,” he explained calmly, taking a seat beside you on the bed.  Your brow furrowed and your eyes darted around.

“Where am I?’

“You’re finally home.”

It was clear that you didn't understand quite yet, though the way your eyes darted around and your brow furrowed made it obvious you were starting to get the gist.  "Scott, I… I don't…"

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, reaching up to cradle your face in his hand.  It broke his heart slightly when you tried to turn your head away from his touch, but he was sympathetic to your reticence; it would be trained out of you soon, anyways.  “Just relax, okay?  Everything’s gonna be fine— not just fine: great.”

You shivered slightly and he was about to ask if you were cold, if he could get you a blanket or turn up the heating, but you spoke first.  “What are you gonna do to me?” you asked, hesitant yet stern.

“Well, that depends on how well you behave,” he explained calmly.  

“Will you let me go?”  Your voice was softer, weaker, and it made his chest tighten; he loved you so much he didn’t know what to do with himself sometimes.

You let out a little sob when he shook his head in reply.  “No, baby, I can’t.  You don’t understand… you don’t know what it’s like, having a family and being away from them all the time.  It’s torture; that’s why you’re here.  This time you're not gonna leave me… never gonna let you out of my sights, sweetheart: you or the baby."  

Your whole body tensed up as your eyes went wide, making him chuckle a little.  

"Don't be so scared, you're gonna love it.  I just know you're going to be an amazing mom…"

You tried to kick him away as he ran his hand up your leg, and even though it didn't work at all it still hurt his feelings.  "Baby," he frowned, tutting disapprovingly, "don't be rude… just relax and it'll feel good."

His hand travelled higher, reaching up between your thighs where his finger gently brushed over your swollen bud through your pajama shorts.  He smirked at the way it was clearly already aroused.  

"See?  You're gonna like it, you already want it," he purred.  

His purr became a growl when he slipped two fingers into your panties and found your folds already slick and warm.  He had meant to tease you a bit more but now he couldn’t stop himself from pushing his fingers into you and groaning at the feeling of your walls wrapped tightly around them.  It was obvious that you were enjoying it just by the way your channel tightened and fluttered encouragingly, even if your face was twisted in conflict.

“It’s okay if it feels good,” he reminded you, rubbing his thumb over your clit and grinning when your back arched.  “It’s okay to come.”

You shook your head, mumbling “no,” but it seemed more like you were talking to yourself than to him.  It was sort of inspiring how much you were trying to hold yourself back even when he could feel your pleasure building with every curl of his fingers.  The way you bit down on your lip to hide your moans was admirable but ultimately fruitless, your body jolting and shaking under him.

“Come on, baby, I know you’re so close, just come for me,” he cooed, knowing that you’d be so much more pliant once your first orgasm was out of the way.  

He could see how badly you wanted, and needed, to obey him, but you were still foolishly resisting and trying to squirm away.  In a moment of frustration, he used his free hand to push down on you just below your belly button: it served both to pin you to the bed and to push your spongy g-spot right into the tips of his fingers, making you choke and gurgle as your eyes shot open.

“There it is,” he grinned, “see how good I can make you feel?  Go ahead, sweetheart, make a mess on my fingers…”

It wasn’t much longer until a new wave of wetness seeped from your opening, down around his hand and onto the sheets below, making him laugh a little purely out of pride.

“Fuck, just like that— keep going,” he demanded with a little growl, loving the way you writhed and gasped all for him.  To see you like this was reward enough, but to know that nobody else would ever see you like this again, that you’d be his forever?  It was nearly overwhelming.

He didn’t stop until your whines were too pained to bear— there was a clear difference between overstimulated and genuinely suffering, and his interest laid solidly in the first.  Still, he loved the way you sighed with relief when he slowed down and pulled his fingers from you; already your body was limp and heavy, your eyes blinking slowly.

“Are you tired already?  Baby, we’re just getting started,” he chuckled, standing up to strip quickly.  He wasn’t sure if your shock was from seeing his body or knowing what he was going to do to you next, but it was likely some mixture of the two— definitely plenty of the first with the way your eyes scanned him while he took off his jeans.  He was pretty proud of himself for staying in shape, and every long night at the gym was justified when he saw you swallow nervously at the sight of him.  You had trouble hiding your arousal when your body was tied up and completely exposed to him, aside from the little pajama set that did nothing to hide your hardening nipples.

When he was naked, finally, he climbed onto the bed and slotted himself between your legs, ignoring the way you struggled beneath him to tear off your top.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered under his breath as your chest was finally freed, your tits jiggling a little whenever you tried to squirm away.  “So fucking perfect…”

He grabbed one and held it steady so he could lean down and capture the nipple between his lips, humming when you whined and bucked beneath him.

“These are gonna get bigger when I knock you up, you know,” he smiled happily, looking up at where you were staring back with wide, wild eyes.  “Gonna be full of milk for our little one.”

He moved to the other nipple slowly, circling it with his tongue before finally latching on and sucking it just hard enough to make you yelp slightly.

“Will you let me have a taste too, baby?” he teased, laughing at your expression that tried (and failed) to mask arousal with disgust.

Though he would have to wait to taste your milk, there was another part of you he could taste now— or as soon as he finished kissing his way down your stomach, and quickly ripping and disposing of your little shorts.  

The second he got you naked for him, the smell of your need hit the air and it drove him fucking wild.  Once again, his plans to tease you— kiss your thighs, leave little bite marks on your hips, give the gentlest licks to your swollen button— were lost to his desire, leaving him with no choice but to dive right in and devour you.

It was worth it to see you fall apart for him so quickly, your back arching dramatically as you grabbed the ropes that tied your hands just to have something to hold onto.  He could tell nobody had ever eaten your cunt this good before, because if they had you wouldn’t have gasped so loudly when he pushed his tongue into you.  The lewd slurping sounds that echoed around the basement reminded you both that every sound was trapped, just like you— it scared you more but it turned him on, his cock bobbing up against his abs in a silent beg for stimulation.

But it wasn’t quite time to fuck you.  Close, but not yet.  He needed to taste you at the peak of your pleasure first.

Two fingers pushed slowly into your pulsing channel definitely helped to speed things along: he could hear you getting louder, and feel you getting tighter.  He could even feel your clit throbbing against his tongue, and it only made him want to push you further to the edge.

"I know you're so close honey, just let go," he purred between laps at your swollen bud.  

Clearly you were still worn out from the last orgasm but it made it even easier to make you come this time, even when you were uselessly fighting it.  Your broken little moans made his heart twist, and his cock flex slightly although he was doing his best to ignore it.

You started to relax and go limp, so he pulled back and took a moment to appreciate how lovely you looked, exhausted and blissed-out just from his touch.

"Doing so good for me, sweetheart," he praised huskily.  "I think we've both waited long enough… I'm gonna put my cock in you now."

Your mumbles and heavy breaths almost sounded like you were considering begging him not to again, but apparently you were either too tired or too smart to keep that game up.  He grinned as he scooted forward a bit so he could rub his cock between your swollen, slick lips; the way his thick shaft spread your folds was intoxicating, and he couldn't wait to see how it looked when he pushed into your tight cunt.

He literally couldn't wait: he was already guiding the head to your opening and sliding home.

You whimpered weakly and his head fell back with a groan.  "God, baby, so fucking tight…"

Underneath where his hands rested on your legs, he could feel you struggling again.

"Shh, just take it honey, it's gonna be so good," he assured from between his teeth, jaw tight and heart racing.  As much as slowing down and giving you some time to adjust would be the gentlemanly thing to do, he couldn't find the patience now that he was inside you and it felt so perfect.

When he was finally all the way within you and his hips were flush against yours, you made a little noise like a moan and a sob while he leaned down to cage your body in with his, resting his arms beside your head.  

"See how perfect we are together?  Like we're made for each other," he cooed, pouting a little when a tear fell from your eye.  "Don't cry, baby," he soothed as he wiped it away with his thumb, "everything's finally right.  I'm gonna move now, okay?"

But he didn't wait for your permission before he pulled back and pushed in again, stroking your walls with patience and precision.

Each thrust pushed the head of his cock right into that spongy spot inside you, making you gasp and tug on your restraints a bit— and you looked so beautiful in the throes of pleasure like this, spread out beneath him and your body at his disposal.  But, disposal was the last of his plans for you: he wanted to savor you, make you feel as good as you made him feel (if that was even possible).

So, he did his best to target your most sensitive spots, grinning at your body's obvious reaction.  Occasionally he would rub your clit with his thumb or reach up to play with your tits, but overall he stuck to just appreciating the perfect friction of your channel on the ridges and veins of his cock.

It didn't take much more of that for you to arch your back again, the weak moans that spilled from your lips just as much a sign of your orgasm as the way your inner muscles flexed around him.

"Just like that," he praised under his breath, "fuck, come for me baby…"

Moving faster and with more ferocity, he was able to push you into another one quickly as he grinned down at you. 

"There you go, angel, just keep coming for me, I know you can give me one more—"

"N-no," you stammered, "can't…"

"Yes you can, honey, be my good little girl and come one more time for me," he encouraged, thrusting harder and faster as you whimpered and writhed.  The fluttering of your walls brought his own orgasm close but he staved it off as he fought to get one last glimpse of you at the height of your pleasure.  "There you go," he grinned when he felt your body tense up only to relax all at once, a beautiful broken whine echoing around the room.

The sensation of his balls tightening was always a sign that he was close, but it was much stronger now than normal and he knew he was going to come so hard.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he groaned.  "Gonna fill you up so good that you have to get pregnant."

"Scott, please," you whimpered, "please just pull out."

"I can't, honey, I couldn't if I wanted to— you just feel too good," he explained, thrusting faster as he began to lose his rhythm.  "Fuck, just like that— oh god, baby, I'm coming, fuck!"

He groaned as finally he felt each pump of come paint the deepest parts of you, not stopping until he spilled every drop.

You tried to squirm but he held your hips tight, the little pulses of your walls milking his cock for all it was worth.  "Baby," he sighed as he started to catch his breath, "fuck, you're amazing."

Your sweet little body shivered beneath him, making him frown sympathetically and rub your arms.  

"Aw, honey, are you cold?" he soothed, hugging you tight and giving you a peck on the tip of your nose.  

"Why…" you mumbled, so quiet that he almost didn't hear it, as your eyes fluttered shut.

"It's okay, honey, I'm right here," he promised, "I know you're tired, you can go to sleep now."

Stage 5: Leave before anyone knows you were there.

This one didn’t exactly apply in this case, since nobody was leaving anywhere anytime soon; he was going to stay with you as long as he could, only leaving when work absolutely demanded it.  In fact, his first order of business was to go back to the lab and bring your letter of resignation with him.  With some bargaining he got you to sign it, and once it was done he could barely keep it together at work all day— he just couldn’t wait to get home and be with you again, knowing that the last of the loose ends were tied and nobody was going to come looking for you.

You adjusted to domestic life rather well, especially once you started showing and your maternal instincts started to overpower the independence you used to value.  

"Good morning, angel," he purred against your ear as you stirred in his arms, your movements rustling the sheets of your shared king bed.  He hummed as he ran his hands over your body, resting on your round, swollen belly where he suddenly felt his child kicking underneath.  "Did you feel that?" he gasped.

"Mm-hmm," you mumbled sleepily, cuddling up closer to him and resting your hands on top of his.  "That's our baby."

He kissed your cheek and smiled, trying to comprehend how he ever got so lucky.  After all, second chances are hard to come by.

[fromthedeskoftheraven]

Always kiss me goodnight

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Content:  Pining, kissing, mention of food, oh no there’s only one bed,   helmetless Din (but it’s dark), baby Yoda is an adorable tiny terror

Word count: ~2200

Note:  I swear I was only going to write one Pedro character fic. Has this   kind of thing been done a million times? Yes. Am I doing it once more?   Also yes. It’s self-indulgent hours and this little love letter to our favorite space dad and his green baby has been nagging at my mind since I  first watched the show.

Tagging the people who asked (If anyone wants to be tagged or un-tagged in any future fics since it seems  I’m well and truly back on my bs just say the word): @songsformonkeys @yespolkadotkitty @emesispo @beccaplaying

———————————————

Fatigue has caught up with the little green child now that his belly is full, and crankiness along with it. The Mandalorian has been known to lovingly  call his adopted son a womp rat, but when the baby gets overtired, a rancor is more like it.

This time, you can hardly blame him. The three of you have spent the better part of the day traveling, finally landing on this backwater planet late in the evening. With some searching and a small fortune in credits, Din managed to find a safe, out-of-the-way place to stay, leaving you and the child to eat and settle in while he went to scout the bounty’s location for the next  day’s work.

As the child’s fussing gains momentum, you hustle to the small sink in the corner of the room.

“We’ll wash your face and go straight to bed,” you promise him, letting the   water warm before wetting a cloth and wringing it out thoroughly.

In the mirror, your own face looks as exhausted as he obviously feels. The bed in question is little more than a pallet with a mattress and some  blankets, but it might as well be a royal welcome at this stage of the game.

Despite your gentleness, the baby erupts in an indignant whine as you wipe the cloth over his face and ears. “I know, little love,” you soothe while he struggles in protest. “Almost done.”

He quiets when you scoop him up into your arms, pressing a kiss to his fuzzy head. You hum bits of a song from your childhood, rocking him from side to side, and his little face crumples with a yawn. His tiny fingers curl into the fabric of your tunic and his head goes heavy on your shoulder, but still he fidgets, making pathetic little sounds in the direction of the door.

“I know,” you murmur again, still swaying on the spot. “He’ll be back soon.”

You’ve grown to love the child and you know he’s fond of you, but as far as   he’s concerned Din is the one who hangs the stars in the sky. He’s always a little agitated when his father is out of sight, and truth be told, so are you.

“I know what we can do,” you say. “Let’s make a plate for your buir for when he comes back. Don’t you think that’ll be nice for him?”

Neither you nor Din are sure how much the child actually understands, but you don’t let it stop you talking to him. If nothing else it makes you feel a little less alone in the long hours when Din is hunting his quarries.

His drooping ears twitch upward with this suggestion. He watches with interest as you lay a plate with some of the fresh fruit, bread, and stewed meat Din bought from the innkeeper for your supper.

“There we go. Now then, bedtime for little ones.”

You turn to survey the sleeping area with a stab of nerves. The minuscule size of the room isn’t a challenge -- the Razor Crest has made you an expert in living in small spaces -- but the lone bed is a wrinkle you hadn’t expected.

Din, ever pragmatic, had been quick to point out that it was plenty big enough for the three of you, and it was only one night. He was right, of course.

Still, you’d never been so grateful for dim lighting, sure that your secret longing for the Mandalorian was written plainly on your flustered face.

You couldn’t have said exactly when your feelings for Din Djarin had strayed  into dangerous territory. Somewhere in the months of traveling with him, caring for his child, helping maintain his ship, reminding him to eat, and tending the worst of his wounds your initial wariness turned to admiration, admiration to fondness, and fondness to something alarmingly like love.

It’s a fool’s errand.

For all his kindness to you Din is an island of a man, set apart from the world in  his shell of beskar and the even more unyielding armor of his creed.  Even if his heart is big enough to encompass the child, you don’t dare to hope there’s room for you too.

And now this bed -- this one kriffing bed -- sits there mocking you and all your silly fantasies of you and Din and the child being a real family, bound together by love instead of convenience.

You turn off the light overhead, leaving only the small, sickly lamp at the table to light Din’s way to his supper.

The mattress is clean and the blankets are a bit threadbare but soft, and the baby only has the energy to grumble a little when you lay him down on the side closest to the wall and tuck the thickest of them around   him. Yawning widely, he stretches out a hand toward you, fingers grabbing at the air.

The gesture warms your weary heart.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

You lie down beside him and face away from the table, mindful that Din will need privacy to eat. The little body shuffles closer to you, curling into your shoulder, and a surge of fierce affection pricks your eyes with tears. You wrap your arm around the baby to hold him close as the full brunt of the long day overtakes you.

“Good night, little love,” you say around a yawn, just as your eyes fall closed.

***

You wake with a start. The windowless room is pitch black, and in the absence of any landmarks your brain races to orient itself.

At your back, the child’s soft, snuffling breaths. A well-worn blanket draped over you and a slightly lumpy mattress beneath.

The inn, you remember in a flash.

At your front...something warm and broad and solid. You’ve nestled into it  in your sleep, one arm thrown over it, your hand grasping soft fabric. A familiar, comforting scent surrounds you, a scent you cherish from laundry days and the cramped quarters of a small ship.

Oh, Maker.

You clearly slept through Din coming back and getting into bed, and now you’re wrapped around him like a second set of clothes. The rush of blood into your cheeks flames so hot you worry he must feel it through the base layers he’s wearing to sleep.

Shrinking into yourself, you begin to pull away, as stealthily as you can. If you  can just get back to your own side of the bed and brazen it out in the  morning, maybe he’ll never be the wiser.

Slowly, so slowly, you  release the handful of his shirt you’re holding and move your arm from where it’s resting across his chest...

In the darkness, a hand encircles your wrist.

Oh, Maker.

You’ve watched Din wrestle enough uncooperative bounties into the carbonite   chamber to know you’re not getting away from him if he doesn’t want you to. But his grip on your wrist is light, gentle. His thumb rests on the place where your pulse is fluttering like a trapped bird, whether from embarrassment or his closeness you’re not entirely sure.

“Din.” It comes out barely a whisper, sabotaged by the sudden dryness of your mouth. You swallow hard and try again. “Din, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s all right.”

His voice is a revelation. Free of the modulator’s rasp, it’s warmer, richer, somehow softer and more resonant at the same time. You’ve never even been in the same room with him when he has his helmet off, and the realization that he’s right there, a breath away, is dizzying.

Silence stretches before he speaks again, more quietly. “It’s...nice.”

Your brain fails you entirely. “Oh.”

You search desperately for something more intelligent to say, but his thumb is drawing feather-light circles over the soft skin of your wrist and your pulse is thundering in your ears. Those touches, so delicate from a man so strong, blur your thoughts like liquor and drag a confession from your lips before you can bite it back. “I’ve always wanted to hold you.”

You wait, blessing the darkness that swallows your shame,  and hope he’s not going to tell you to pack your things and find a job in this bleak little skug hole for when he leaves you behind.

Instead, you feel the mattress shift and know he’s turned toward you.

The sudden fear of breaking Din’s creed is overwhelming, even in the dark. Instinct has you squeezing your eyes shut so tightly that white specks float behind your eyelids.

“I can’t see you,” you say quickly. “I promise.”

“I know.”

His thumb moves from your wrist across your palm, uncurling your fingers to map each one in turn, trailing up to the tips and back down again. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s touched anyone’s bare skin.

He sighs, which is nothing new, but this one doesn’t sound exasperated. It sounds almost...content. “Mesh’la,” he murmurs. “Beautiful girl. I thought so the first time I saw you.”

You’re overcome with a wild, childish urge to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

His praise gives you a rush of courage to ask for something you’ve only dreamed of. “Din...can I touch you? Is it allowed?”

His only answer is to cradle your hand in his, bringing it to rest on his cheek.

Stubble prickles your palm as your fingers slowly trace his scruffy jawline and the thick column of his neck, savoring the feel of him. His hair is soft, long enough to curl at its nape, and when you comb your fingers through the tousled strands he makes a low, strangled sound in the back of his throat. It reverberates through your body like a bell, making your head swim with the thrill of affecting him.

You only just resist the urge to suck a mark into the spot where his pulse races under his warm skin.

Your greedy hands move on to discover a strong brow and the curved bridge of a prominent nose. A mustache frames lips that are more plush than you imagined, a note of sensuality in an angular, warrior’s face.

“Can you tell me what color your eyes are?” you ask, fingertips traveling over his cheekbone.

“Brown.”

Brown. You see them in your mind’s eye, soft and dark, expressing all the   things he doesn’t say out loud. Stroking his lower lip, you repeat his own word back to him: “Mesh’la.”

Din’s mouth twitches under your fingers. “You can’t see me.”

He has no idea. His body warming yours and the sweetness of his voice   calling you beautiful is everything you’ve ever wanted and thought yourself unworthy of having, and he thinks you’re only talking about his  face.

You cup his cheek, smile at him, even though he can’t see it. “I don’t need to, Din. I just know it. I always have.”

“You’re so good to me.” His hand catches yours in his large one, his voice   rough with some nameless emotion. “To me, and the baby. All the time.”

“You deserve everything good,” you whisper past the lump in your throat.

He’s caressing your hand again, holding it in place to press his lips to the pad of your thumb. “I want to kiss you, cyare.”

Your exhale is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Please.”

His hand moves to cradle your head as he closes the distance between you. If you were expecting him to pounce, you’re completely unprepared for him to linger, breath hovering over your lips for a long, agonizing moment as he brushes his nose over yours.

You’re almost startled by the first touch of his lips, a little chapped but warm and lush. His mustache is softer than you thought it would be, and so are his kisses, a series of slow, gentle presses of his mouth. Like he wants to do with his lips what you’ve done with your hands, sketching and learning.

It’s only when you slide your hand into his hair again that something inside him breaks. His arm snakes around your waist, holding you to the refuge of his broad chest as he slants his mouth over yours, claiming you in earnest. He’s possessive and tender in equal measure and the tease of  his tongue against yours, his teeth nipping your lower lip, the span of his hand on your back has you drunk on him and whispering his name between kisses like a prayer.

...Apparently not quietly enough.

A little hand scrabbling at your shoulder blade brings you out of your haze. As you pull away from Din the baby is climbing over you as quickly as his short limbs will let him. He wedges himself between the two of you with a delighted coo at Din, hands flailing to find his father’s face.

Din heaves a sigh, but there’s no malice in it. “I’m here, ad’ika,” he says, with unmistakable fondness. “We’re all here.”

You can’t stifle a breathless laugh as the baby snuggles into Din’s arms, making himself comfortable for the night.

Your Mandalorian surrenders good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around you with  the child tucked safely in the middle. He presses a kiss to your forehead before settling on the pillow beside you. “Sleep, cyare.”

Drowsiness is already fuzzing the edges of your mind again, but it catches on the word he’s said twice now. “What does that mean?” you murmur. “Cyare?”

You feel him smile against your temple, one last brush of his lips. “Share my bunk tomorrow night, and I’ll tell you.”

[piercedpressure]

how has deja evolved over the years? i swear she gets redesigned like every few months /pos lol

LMAOOO ud be right cause shes changed stories each year (im painfully indecisive), this year is the only story ive genuinely been interested in exploring since i finally landed on a genre i think would fit her best? and i consider her redesigns to be a sort of progression into how ive grown as a writer and maybe as a person since shes been with me for so long lmao

ill place this under read more cause ill go into condensed detail about her evolution for her characterization, her design, and a small timeline for her story contexts but tl;dr shes grown so much and has gotten way more complex. i love her so much

2017-early 2018: she actually started out as a sona concept! design wise, nothing really special tbh, i was throwing stuff i really liked. for 2017, she was just a throwaway concept, but i was rapidly improving towards the end of that year...

mid-2018: ... that i ended up reusing her concept as a character concept, and during that year, i made an au with a friend that spiraled into something that lasted about the next 2 years, that then included her as one of the main characters LMAO. i wanted to draw crazy hair and also a cute mask, so i did. i ended up making it so that the masks were to both hide her identity (shes a fugitive in the au) and to be some sort of metaphor. her personality was very outwardly sweet, but she could also kill you so it best to not get on her bad side, but she was also in a constant learned helplessnes. big deja year

2019: design wise, i removed the mask, made her fatter (despite me not knowing how to draw fat people yet), and made her sorta baby-faced, since her character is a lot more childish during this bit? story wise, her story was included in an anthology about different kinds of love in a post-apocalyptic fantasy world. during this time, i was going through a Lot mentally, and it sorta marked the beginning of a really horrible period in my life thats still kind of ongoing, so i used her story in a more experimental sense so i can figure out different workarounds in an escapist way? this is also when i started pairing her with her now-partner-in-stories, lualhati, and from this point, lulu and deja are inseparable

2020: for this year, i was sorta putting her story off? i was really struggling to figure out what to do with it other than the deja/lulu love story, but at the same time, that marked me going through a journey of adding fat people to my work. dejas always been small fat, but her body hasnt actually been drawn well enough. we all start from somewhere though. she was a lot more calm in this version, and is sort of a leader figure for a village in a fantasy world. but i wasnt really feeling it.........

2021: last year was when i really started digging deep into what i wanted to do. i wanted weird gay trans cathartic art. so dejas story was that. still wasnt really feeling it, but u can tell i was really experimenting trying to land on something i was passionate about. while i did like her design since its a turning point in my art, and its visually loud (the color palette, holy shit), IT WAS SO HARD TO DRAW? i understand that 2021 me was really going at it with very loud and distinct designs, but the reason why i didnt even draw her for months after was because she was so fucking hard to draw. and i didnt put enough effort to portraying her fatness (which will soon become a very important aspect of her character). but were about to pull a gamer move

2022: up until now, since 2018-2019, i wasnt really satisfied with her story. it didnt really fit what i wanted, bc i was mostly concerned with how other people would react if i talked about them, especially since deja/lulu have always been very personal to me. but i had a vision. where deja and lulu are in a revenge drama thriller in a city in the middle of nowhere. and i havent stopped thinking about it day and night ever fucking since. i brought back a lot of elements from past designs (mostly cause i thought theyd look great, i was right), and im finally getting to a point where im figuring out how i draw fat people. now, dejas characterization came really easy to me (hypervigilent, short-tempered, mysterious, a second away from realizing shes trans). her story explores themes surrounding violence, secrets, and suffocating marriages, and while its a far heavier story than the past ones, its the first time ive been genuinely excited to see how its grown. i could ramble about this all day lol

deja is a growing character and she keeps getting better and better every time im exploring her, and she genuinely means the world to me. thank u for reading this if u have decided to read this

[themurphyzone]

PatB Oneshot: Love Survives

Summary: When Brain loses his entire world, he’s lost within his grief. But maybe...even in the darkest night, there are sparks of hope. 

The title of this fic comes from the ending song for All Dogs Go to Heaven. I noticed that there seems to be a trend of Brain loses Pinky and can’t cope’ fics out there, so I’m cashing in one of mine. 

AO3 Link

Warnings for Major Character Death and Animal Cruelty

Pinky was buried in a beautiful meadow, near an old, strong oak tree and a patch of colorful wildflowers. The site was simply marked on the tree. Brain had tied a sunshine yellow ribbon around the trunk. 

It was Pinky’s favorite color. 

Tie a yellow ribbon round the ‘ole oak tree, Pinky would sing. Punctuated by a series of odd tics when he inevitably forgot the rest of the lyrics. 

And beneath that ribbon of sunshine, Brain carved a circle, enclosed by a heart. 

Forever my world. 

P+B

The inscription was carefully placed inside the heart. Brain wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He sank to his knees, pressing his head against the tree. He allowed the tears to come. There was no point in trying to stifle them.

Brain had chosen this site so that Pinky’s body would forever be safe from human interference. Protecting what remained of his world was the least Brain could do. Placing Pinky somewhere peaceful and beautiful was the bare minimum. 

A lifetime ago, he’d watched Disney’s Snow White adaptation with Pinky.  That silly mouse was a hopeless romantic, so naturally Disney movies catered to his taste. 

So beautiful, even in death, that the dwarves could not find it in their hearts to bury her. They fashioned a coffin of glass and gold, and kept eternal vigil at her side. 

Ironic, how Brain had scoffed at the very notion of true love’s kiss when Pinky was alive. Now, he wished nothing more than for true love’s kiss to purge the progressive decay that would set into Pinky’s body. 

In his fantasies, he would lean over a thin body laid in a golden coffin, the glass lid removed. Flowers outlined the soft white cushion his lover’s body laid upon. 

He would kiss Pinky, and those beautiful sky-blue eyes would flutter open with surprise and joy. Then Pinky would reach for him and pull him into a hug, whispering nothing but words of affirmation and love and promises to be together forever. 

And they’d walk off together, into a gorgeous castle where they could rule the world and live happily ever after. 

But life was not a Disney movie. 

Brain didn’t have gold. He had nothing of worth, nothing of extravagance to bury Pinky with. 

And bodies could not be preserved, as Snow White’s was. It would take a while, but all bodies turned to ash and dust with enough time. 

And most of all, he would never be able to speak to Pinky again. Hear that wonderful Cockney accent, or get annoyed and grumble about his quirks, or touch that soft, warm fur. Never to hug, never to bop, never to hold hands or hear a heartbeat or intertwine their tails anymore. 

Never to hear kind words when he needed them most, never to drive away the loneliness or comfort him after defeat, never to scold him when he was wrong. 

Brain would never feel a jaw rest against his head or strong, gentle arms to cradle him again. 

He would never hear ‘I love you’ anymore. 

In this enormous, frightening world, Brain was truly alone. 

o-o-o-o-o

He returned to the lab. 

There was nothing else for him. No point in trying to take over the world without Pinky. 

After all, there was no point in trying to create a better world if Pinky wasn’t there to reap the rewards with him. 

Brain slept in the straw that night. He couldn’t sleep in the bed anymore. It was just too cold, no matter how many blankets he tried to use. The other half of the bed was empty and lifeless, lacking an energetic mouse who would either sprawl all his limbs out and invade Brain’s share of the bed or curl around him to make him feel safe and protected. 

Pinky always protected him, whether it was from his own racing thoughts or when the world just became too much. 

And now he couldn’t. 

In the morning, the scientists took him out of the cage for experiments. Brain hated their harsh, burning touch, the smell of latex assaulting his nose, and their biting, scathing words. 

Before, he’d growl and bite their fingers if they dared to touch him. 

Pinky had given him a reason to fight and resist their domineering ways. 

Now, he could only stay lifeless and limp as he was carried into the unknown. He hated how he couldn’t make his body move, or scream at the scientists for what they’d cruelly taken away from him. 

It was all their fault. 

And for what? 

Profit? Science? Just to see if they could? 

They inoculated Pinky with a virus. Pinky had grown sicker and sicker, trying to smile and narf his way through Brain’s plans of world domination until his body simply gave out from the stress. 

Brain had noticed early on. Pinky would say ‘zort’ and laugh away the pain, or try to invent some excuse as to why he was a bit slower and clumsier than usual. 

And though he knew Pinky was lying to him, Brain tried to keep pushing through. Pinky had insisted that Brain shouldn’t stop on his account. 

It was nothing, he told himself. He’ll be fine in a few nights. Just assign him less strenuous tasks for now. 

But Pinky didn’t get better. He coughed and limped and fell down when he tried to walk. But for Brain’s sake, he tried to keep going. 

Maybe he could’ve gotten better with a little rest. Or if Brain dedicated more time to finding a cure. 

Pinky was finally bedridden. Too weak to eat or drink without help, too tired to run on the wheel or watch TV or any other inane activity. 

Brain put all schemes on hold until he could cure Pinky’s pitiful condition.

And one night, Pinky went to sleep. 

He never woke up again. 

Brain didn’t realize it until morning, when there was no heartbeat though his head was against Pinky’s chest. 

It would be karmic justice if they injected Brain with the same sickness that had killed Pinky. He wouldn’t fight them off this time. 

But they only plopped him in a maze. 

A tedious task, but not life-threatening. It was unfair that he only had to do a maze while Pinky suffered from that injection. 

But he couldn’t run the maze. Just sit there and listlessly stare at the wall.

It was a process that repeated over the next few days. 

Get taken out of the cage. Be placed into maze. Sit and stare at the wall until they took him out. Be placed back into cage and try to eat a food pellet or two, though he had no appetite. Stare into the distance until exhaustion caught up with him. And the cycle repeated. 

I miss you. I’m sorry. Please come back, Brain pleaded.  

I love you.

Three little words. Not intellectual, grandiose words that were his preferred vocabulary, but a simple collection of letters that were somehow the hardest to say. 

Did Pinky know? 

He should’ve told him a long time ago, when he had the chance. When Pinky had been alive and healthy and well. 

But he hadn’t. 

Hindsight was a cruel mistress. 

And there were more disturbing thoughts that arose, if he thought for far too long. They started off as fleeting stray fragments, but with each passing night they grew stronger. Thoughts of vengeance, retribution, and payback began to dominate. 

You took my entire world! It’s your fault! None of you will ever know how much he meant to me! 

He hated how these thoughts invaded and tainted Pinky’s memory. Pinky would never approve. But Pinky wasn’t here to stop him. 

He could do whatever he wanted, without Pinky’s morals to obstruct him at every turn. How glorious was that? 

Brain’s fingers trembled as he printed out a list of all the scientists who’d been involved in the inhumane experiment that had killed Pinky. 

It was all there. Names, addresses, telephone numbers, social security, employment history.

But the sky shone brightly that morning, piercing and blue, asking why? 

Brain had planned to get into the human suit. He’d comb through the entire town and make sure each and every one of the scientists knew exactly what they did to such a precious soul. And then he’d-

Would that bring Pinky back? Would that help with the pain?

The bright blue sky bore down all around him, trapping him in a neverending azure sea. Brain shook, a strangled noise escaping his throat.   

Tarnishing Pinky’s memory like that…what kind of friend was he? 

A horrible one, that’s what. 

He shredded the list, unable to go through with such a horrible deed.

The tears swiftly came, his vision blurred and movements uncoordinated.  

There was nobody to see him anyway. He didn’t care about potential embarrassment, though he might’ve once. But that was all in the past. 

It was hard to care about anything. 

He stumbled through the lab. There were no humans to avoid just yet. The lab wouldn’t be opening for another few minutes. 

Didn’t matter if he was caught outside his cage and transferred to a more lethal department besides behavioral. Or mistaken for a feeder and dropped into a snake’s gaping maw. 

He didn’t know where he was going. Didn’t care where he ended up. 

Until he bumped into a structure in front of him. An all too familiar structure that haunted his nightmares. 

The gene splicer loomed over him, tall and unassuming. But he knew firsthand the damage that piece of machinery could inflict. 

Those who passed through became sentient, but at what cost? Insanity, the pleasure of knowing their lives were worth nothing, and lost innocence. Friends and families torn apart in the pursuit of scientific knowledge. 

Although…

An odd thought flickered by, and he grasped it by a thread. 

What if he used the gene splicer on himself…so he could face sweet oblivion? 

All he’d care about was food pellets and digging through straw. He would never have to ponder his worth again, or have this stupid obsession with the world. 

He would lose the ability to read and write and undo his vast scientific and mathematical knowledge. None of those would bring Pinky back, so what good were they to him? 

Pinky. 

What if he forgot Pinky? 

Forgot about that silly bucktoothed smile, or the way his tail swished about when he was happy, or the feel of warm fur against his body? 

And most importantly, the kindness and love Pinky had given to such an unworthy creature like him. 

Did he truly want to forget all that? 

He didn’t know. 

The clock ticked. Brain didn’t know how long he’d stood there for, but his ears perked at the sound of footsteps, wheels, and a cacophony of frantic squeaks. 

“Dr. Pollock, these are the specimens you ordered for the revival,” a female voice said. 

“Ah, so they finally arrived,” a cold, detached voice replied. “Took them long enough. Come into the splicing room with me, intern. You can separate the subjects into their groups while I set up the experiment.” 

“It’s Ashley, sir,” the intern said, sounding a little annoyed. “My name is Ashley.” 

“So many interns walk out those doors and never return. Do you honestly expect me to remember every one of your names?” Dr. Pollock sighed. 

Brain darted behind a curtain that hid a small window from view just as Dr. Pollock and Ashley came into the room. Ashley’s black hair was tied up in a neat little bun, a pair of awkward, oversized glasses perched on her face. She pushed a large cart into the room, covered by a large tarp.   

The squeaking was coming from underneath, a discordant harmony of pleas and screams and crying. 

And he recognized those sounds. 

They were the noises of barely weaned mice who wanted nothing more than to see their parents and siblings again, who only wanted a place called home. 

He’d been a child once. A long time ago. 

But once ACME had their clutches in a mouse, there was no escape. And innocence would be violently and cruelly stripped away until there was nothing left but a broken shell. 

He’d experienced it. So had Pinky, Snowball, Billie, and countless others he couldn’t name.    

But Dr. Pollock didn’t pay any mind to the noise. He simply brought out a laptop, connected a USB cable to a port on the gene splicer, and logged in to the system. 

Ashley was more hesitant as she pulled the tarp off the cart, her face pinched with doubt. She wasn’t the first intern who wore that expression, nor would she be the last. 

Many college students came to do their internship with ACME Labs, only to discover that the type of labwork they expected to receive was not what they signed up for at all. So many had thrown down their labcoats in disgust. 

Why some colleges were still willing to partner with ACME, he didn’t know.  

Cages upon cages of baby mice were stacked on top of each other. Big and small, long or short fur, white and ginger and brown and gray with every color in between. None would be spared the trip through the splicer. 

The squeals grew louder as harsh, clinical light flooded their sensitive eyes. They scratched at the cage bars, anxiously calling out for help that would never come.  

But not all of them made noise. 

Some of them, even without sentience, had quietly accepted their miserable existence. They huddled in the corner of their cage, limbs and tail tucked underneath in a futile attempt at protection. 

And a handful fought back, lunging at the bars of their prisons again and again. Brain could admire that fighting spirit, but it would be gone all too soon. 

“Separate them into four groups of ten. Don’t bother organizing them by characteristic. This is meant to be a random controlled experiment,” Dr. Pollock instructed, his fingers flying over the keys of his laptop. 

Ashley opened one of the bigger cages that sat on the table by the gene splicer, pulled on a pair of gloves, and counted out ten mice for the first group. 

“Ten for Group A,” Ashley said as she released the last mouse, a gray flecked female with long whiskers, into the communal cage. The young mouse squeaked and nuzzled into the gloved fingers, her eyes closed in contentment. 

Something about the action was very Pinky-like, and Brain’s chest ached at the reminder of his deceased friend. 

Ashley’s face softened as she watched the first group scamper and sniff each other, a tangle of fur and tails and limbs. 

“Don’t get attached to lab specimens,” Dr. Pollock warned her. He turned on the gene splicer, and with a cough and sputter, the machine came to life. He pulled the lever, and the conveyor belt started to move. “It won’t do you any good.”

The first group of mice were placed onto the belt, and within seconds they disappeared into the confines of the machine. 

“Group A. Minimum power,” Dr. Pollock said. 

The curious squeaks soon turned to terror as blue lightning flashed all around them. Brain flattened his ears and looked away. Even at minimum power, the gene splicer would still rip at every strand of DNA and put it all back together in a rapid yet painful process. 

For a moment, all was silent. Then the cage emerged from the gene splicer. 

But there were significantly fewer squeaks than before. 

Ashley gasped. “Some of these mice are-” 

“Dead, yes,” Dr. Pollock finished for her. He didn’t sound surprised. “This happened in the original Project BRAIN too, in which there were only three documented survivors out of forty. I’d hoped to avert that unfortunate outcome by updating the gene splicer with 21st century technology, but it appears that some young mice simply experience too much of an adrenaline rush from terror and their hearts cannot handle the stress. Some things just weren’t meant to be. Separate the two living ones and dispose of the rest. Biohazard bag, if you please.” 

His tone was cold and clinical. A bag rustled. Eight bodies were thrown away. 

Disposed of like they were nothing more than trash. Pinky’s body might’ve shared the same fate if Brain hadn’t been the first one to discover him. He’d gotten Pinky out of the lab quickly, unable to bear the thought of having nothing to bury. 

Brain trembled from head to toe, shoving a hand in front of his mouth so his loud breathing didn’t alert anyone to his position. There was nothing he could do for those young mice. 

ACME Labs didn’t care. As long as the mice gave them their bodies, minds, and souls in the name of science, they would continue destroying these rodents’ quality of life. 

He’d seen it with Snowball, driven out of his mind because of that horrible explosion. 

And with Pinky, who was separated from his own loving family at too young an age and desperately clung to anyone who gave him a little attention.  

“Group B. Ten mice. Moderate power,” Dr. Pollock announced. 

“...eight. N-nine. Ten,” Ashley counted out the next batch of mice. Her voice shook.  

The squeaks dwindled to silence. 

“No survivors,” Dr. Pollock announced. “Same procedure as before, intern.” 

“S-sir? Don’t you think this is-” 

“Do you care about the ants underfoot? The cockroaches that creep along your wall? The flies you squish?” Dr. Pollock asked. “My dear, these mice aren’t of an endangered variety. They are barely a fraction of the total population. And their numbers will replenish quickly.”   

“...yes, sir,” Ashley replied, her voice barely audible. 

“Group C. High power.” 

Brain’s fingers curled into the fabric of the curtain as the third group went into the machine. This time, there was complete silence when the machinery was finished. 

“A pity that none survived again. Prepare the last group. Maximum power,” Dr. Pollock said, as if he were simply checking items off on a clipboard. 

The gene splicer sputtered, its circuits overloading as all its parts were forced to work at speeds they could barely maintain without falling apart. 

And once again, there was complete silence. 

“This one’s tail is twitching,” Ashley said quietly. 

“How interesting. A runt is the only one to survive maximum power. A small size could potentially be a factor in its survival,” Dr. Pollock mused. “Well, we’ll have to keep monitoring then. Intern, take the surviving mice and place them into the behavioral room for now. I’ll wrap everything up over here.” 

Only then did Brain dare to peek out from behind the curtain. The biohazard bag swung from Dr. Pollock’s hand, bulging with the combined weight of the unfortunate mice who’d met their early end at the hands of ACME Labs. 

There wasn’t anything Brain could do for them. 

He could only hope those babies found solace in a different world, one that was far away from here. One that wasn’t filled with hopelessness and cruelty. 

There was no point in staying here. 

Ashley picked up the cage with the three surviving mice, her steps heavy and uncoordinated as she walked to the behavioral room. It seemed she was still processing the experiment and the deaths it caused, unable to do anything in her passiveness. 

The mice only let out the occasional squeak, too exhausted from their ordeal to say anything else. 

Brain followed her, keeping to the shadows so he wouldn’t be spotted. 

She set the cage on the counter, next to Brain’s usual cage. From there, she simply watched the four babies for a while, her eyes dull and unfocused. 

“I’ll get supplies,” she finally murmured. She nearly stumbled over a chair as she left the room. 

The moment she was gone, Brain climbed up the counter. He wanted to walk past the young mice, not get involved or attached or anything stupid like that, but he saw how they just lay there, motionless and helpless. 

They didn’t have someone to dry their tears or pat their heads. Nobody to lean on, nobody to protect them. 

Against his better judgment, Brain unlocked the cage and stepped inside. 

The friendly gray-flecked female from the first group was among them. She raised her head with some difficulty, fatigue in her green eyes as she looked at Brain. Her tail wagged weakly, as if she hadn’t quite given up just yet. 

But Brain had the feeling that if he didn’t do something, then she would lose hope forever. 

The second mouse was a pure white male, who was quite a bit larger than most mouse pups his age. He was slightly round, reminding Brain of those huge marshmallow puffs Pinky used to put into his hot cocoa. He was quiet as he slumbered, save for the occasional breath. 

And the third was the tiniest mouse pup Brain had ever seen in his life. She only had a thin layer of sandy fur, her tail already bent in two places from mishandling. Her legs kicked out wildly as she let out a furious tirade of squeaks. 

Tiny, but she was a fighter. 

They were all on the cold metal floor. It couldn’t be comfortable, especially after such an ordeal. Brain left the cage and gathered several fluffy towels, one to serve as a buffer between the mice and the floor, and the others to serve as blankets. 

He spread the towel on the floor, and only then did it occur to him that he’d have to physically pick up the mice pups and move them. 

Brain’s throat tightened as he approached the gray female. He was no good with children. Romy had proved that. 

“Move to the towel,” he said, trying to sound commanding in spite of his doubts. Thankfully, the gray pup had enough strength to crawl over to the towel and bury herself among its folds. Her squeak sounded happy enough. With a little nudging from Brain, the male pup followed suit. He wasn’t awake for long though, and quickly fell asleep again. 

But the tiniest pup refused to budge, and Brain had to concede that he’d have to pick her up himself. As he knelt down to grab her, trying to avoid her flailing limbs, he noticed dark spots under her eyes that trailed down her cheeks. 

Brain froze. 

She was crying, and he was at a loss. 

He hated tears. Couldn’t stand it when Pinky cried, because the happiest mouse in the world shouldn’t ever feel that way. He didn’t like the ache that welled up in him, or the way his ears fell limp upon the slightest hint of sadness. 

With a trembling hand, Brain reached for her. But his hand could only hover in front of her forehead. He couldn’t do it. 

He was as alone and helpless as these children. 

Why couldn’t Pinky have been here? He would’ve loved them instantly. He would’ve comforted them with soothing songs and gentle reassurances. 

He was far better at this than Brain would ever be. 

And slowly, gently, an invisible force guided Brain’s hand to the pup’s forehead. The pup jerked violently at the contact, a keen wail slipping out of her mouth, far louder than what her tiny lung capacity should’ve held. 

Brain recoiled and withdrew his hand. 

It’s okay. Just try again, a familiar voice urged. 

And so he tried, the voice granting him the courage to do so. This time, he steadied the pup’s enlarged head with his other hand, wiping away several stray tears with his thumb. 

The pup’s wails died away, her limbs falling still. She nuzzled into his hand, her rapid breathing evening out. 

Brain sighed in relief once the pup finally fell into a more restful sleep pattern, and he picked her up, holding her at arms’ length so he could wrap her into the towel. 

The other two pups were curled up together, seeking warmth in each other. There was a small space in between them, so Brain placed the third pup there, hoping this would help regulate her body temperature since her fur wasn’t completely grown in yet. Thankfully, all three accepted the new arrangement without a struggle. 

Brain tucked an extra towel over their bodies, only leaving their heads exposed. 

He was so preoccupied in his task that he failed to notice a metallic clink behind him. His ears pricked up, his fur bristling as he turned to face the source of the noise. 

A pair of startled eyes met his own. 

Brain didn’t allow himself to relax though. 

Ashley might’ve been by herself, but he couldn’t risk her calling Dr. Pollock to observe them. He planted himself firmly between the three pups and the cage door, crossing his arms and returning her stare with as much ferocity as he could. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I…I didn’t realize this place was so…so cruel.” 

She wasn’t the first intern to have that epiphany. But maybe…if Brain played his cards right, she’d be the last. 

“I brought food and water,” Ashley mumbled. In one hand, she held a bowl full of soft food for the baby mice. In the other was a full water bottle. 

Brain pushed the towel towards the back of the cage. The pups continued to slumber peacefully. He remained in between them and Ashley though, for the unspoken agreement that he would allow her to place the food within the cage and add the water bottle, but she wouldn’t be permitted to touch the pups. 

No ACME employee, well-meaning or not, would ever be permitted to touch the pups again. They’d done enough harm. 

Accepting his terms, Ashley placed the food bowl by the cage door and carefully added the water bottle. She was careful not to rattle the cage as she clipped the water bottle to the side, as so many others were prone to do. 

She stopped by the trash can, and with a deep breath, she ripped off her name tag and dropped it into the plastic lining. Then she grabbed her purse and coat, leaving the premises for good. 

Once she was gone, Brain exited the cage. The pups would be alright for a while. 

Underneath the blankets of his own bed, he’d hidden his most treasured item. Among all his inventions and countless plans, the globe keychain was the only object he couldn’t bear to part with.  

Brain reached out and touched the precious world that had been so generously and wholeheartedly given, even though he didn’t deserve it. Perhaps it was nothing more than smooth plastic, but it was more valuable than gold, diamonds, and all the jewels of the earth combined. 

“...sorry, old friend,” Brain whispered, his throat tightening as he spoke to his world, stolen away far too soon. “I wish for nothing more than to see you again, but…I can’t go with you just yet. There are tasks here I can’t leave unfinished. These mice…they need somebody who will be there for them. Just like…just like how you were always there for me.” 

There was a beautiful blue sea reflected in the metal rings of the chain. And somehow, Brain knew it wasn’t a trick of the light. 

Gentle hands turned him around, and Brain didn’t resist. He simply allowed them to guide him home. 

A pair of white angelic wings stretched from the ghostly Pinky’s back, ethereal and beautiful. His friend had more than earned them. They flared outwards as Pinky leaned down, planting a kiss on Brain’s forehead. 

Warmth spread from the center of his forehead, gently washing over his entire being. This was the feeling of coming home to rest after a long night, the joy received from a beautiful smile, and the bright candle that allowed him to see amidst the darkest of nights. 

It was more than a kiss. 

It was a promise for their souls to reunite in the world beyond someday. 

And it was a blessing for Brain to keep living, keep striving for a better tomorrow, and keep all of Pinky’s lessons close to his heart. He would ensure those young mice would know of Pinky’s strange wisdom, so they too may pass his charity and kindness to whoever crossed their path when the time came.  

He would not allow the lab’s cruelty to continue. No longer was he the helpless child who cried in the corner. There were steps he could take to expose all of ACME’s unethical practices to the world. 

The lab would be reformed into a place of sanctuary for those who suffered at ACME’s hands, so that they may find peace and acceptance within its walls. 

“I don’t know if I’ll succeed or fail, but for your sake, I’m going to try,” Brain admitted, his shoulders trembling. He wiped the tears from his eyes, but they fell out faster than he could stop them. “I…I’m sorry. I wish I learned these lessons when you were alive. But I derided them for so long a-and-” 

A pair of sky blue eyes gazed at him, loving and warm and forgiving. Pinky pulled him in close, his angelic wings folding around Brain to protect him from the world, in a love so strong that not even death could separate them. 

And for the very first time, Brain saw the world through his heart. 

o-o-o-o-o

“Some things you see with your eyes. Others, with your heart.”

-Land Before Time 

[dienamights]

Ellipsism | K.Bakugou

Ellipsism: A sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 1.9K

» Genre: Angst 

» Summary: In a world where everyone is born with a unique tattoo on their ankle, and every time they fall in love with someone, their tattoo appears somewhere else on the body of the person they love. You come to the realization that it might not be as simple as that, and all your childhood dreams would come and bite you in the ass.

» Warning(s): ANGST, mentions of self-harm.

» Author’s notes: Listen, I don’t particularly like angst, but I love the way it hurts, y’know? Not sure if I want this to have a happy ending or not (in a second part) and honestly I’m leaning towards the latter, I love pain and I have no idea what would happen. Also, peep the “tattoo” in the header its relevant to the story ahaha

Thank you everyone for the support and love, it means the world to me that people enjoyed my Kacchan representation! Lemme give you smooches.

Big smooches to @tteokdoroki and @sightoru for making me feel good about hurting them🤧❤️

» Masterlist | Requests

The sun had awakened and was promptly emerging through the hazy sky. The cloudy layer created a gloomy blanket from the sun. You jolted awake, your neck aching from your sleeping position and you twisted your head side to side to relieve some of the pain, before reaching for your phone and holding the bright screen to your face to check the time. Alas, the screen was turned off without registering the time nor how long were you asleep for.

You lifted your eyes to see the grey out the window in front of you. With that fog, the trees and buildings never ended, they floated upwards, seemingly as endless as beanstalks. Reaching your head back, it met the wooden counter. You were in the kitchen, fell asleep on the floor and slumped against the counters, the empty bottle laying across from you a reminder of the event that transpired the previous night - maybe morning? You didn't really know.

You lazily extended your legs in front of you, eyeing your sock-clad feet and the tattoo that peaked from the clothing. Blooming lilacs that danced and branched out, the stem wrapping around your ankle oh so loosely, almost teasingly. Lilacs that represented happiness and tranquility, which you have never felt more far from. 

Remembering the old days, the better days, you with your poofy dress, so blindingly pink it demanded everyone's attention, giggling with your friends that adorned similar attire to yours, showing each other the tattoos that hugged your ankles, in endless shapes and sizes, dreaming about who the lucky person you’ll share your tattoo with would be, who was lucky enough to capture your heart and claim it as their own, and offering theirs in return.

Bedtime stories were your favorite quality time with your mother, where you’d both forget about the story cradled in her hands and you’d spend your night tracing the few tattoos that scattered across her arms. Asking her how could she love so many people and have them love her in return before loving her husband - your father - the only person she was meant to be with, only to wait with bated breath for an answer you already heard so many times you probably memorized it by now. You’d be entranced at the way her eyes always softened, a light gleaming in them as she would explain to you, again and again, with no sign of ever getting bored, how she have never and would never regret the people she loved, because in some twisted way of the universe, it led her to the father of her beautiful child, that snuggled her in her princess bed. 

Alas, asking her how you came to the world received a totally different reaction, and you refrained from asking her that again until later on in life.

Whenever your grandma visited, you’d run to hug her old and withered body, apologizing when she would howl about her aching back and dragging her to sit with the excuse to help her rest, but you both knew you wanted to hear stories, your teenage self was so ready to fall in love, so excited to have a piece of someone you adored with all your heart decorating your skin, inking it in the most beautiful forms of promise.

She always made her past lovers sound like prince charmings right out of a novel, the kind of guys with the power and confidence that seemed perfect in every way. The kind of guys schoolgirls woke up and went to school for in the morning. The kind of guys that hit women of all ages right between the eyes every time they were seen and stirred up their fantasies.

And by God, did you not realize that your grandmother wasn't spewing bullshit after all these years, because there he was, a storm in each step he took, fire in his knuckles erupting and seething with fierceness. He was an explosion of bare, raw, real mystery. A soft caress of the wind, warm sand, and pure silence. He was colors and textures and shapes and designs, all combined together in an artistic canvas that thrived for attention but wouldn't stoop to admitting it. 

You remembered the day your lilacs embellished his shoulder, shyly peeking through his hero suit, claiming everyone’s attention on their petals as they swayed on his skin, the attention of the media as the shoulder of the hero, Dynamight, was showcased on social media, people envying whoever was able to capture the exploding hero’s heart.

As if he wasn’t capable of love, they didn't see what you saw, they will never have the privilege, because when he dropped the façade of the hero, he’d come home to you, knock on your apartment door and you’d flee to open it to him to lay your eyes on him, a tired laugh, sore muscles, a teasing glint in crimson eyes, golden hair tasseled after a sleepless night. He was secure embraces oozing with warmth. He was toughness and hardness, perfectly mixed in with trust and care.

It was at that day it happened, in the middle of the living room while the newsman was talking nonsense about the hero, the warmth wrapped around your wrist, gripping it like a vice with no intention of letting go; yes it burned, you remembered the sting, it just paled in comparison to the warmth in your chest, the warmth of the tears escaping your eyes as you held your wrist close to your chest, happily whispering about how this was what love felt like. You also recalled that it was at that exact moment the hero, your hero, walked into your apartment, dropping everything and running the small distance to your hunched body to grab at your wrist to inspect the damage he thought was done to it.

Only for his eyes to meet that one wretched inking he loathed all his life, the - meaningless doodles, he’d call them - that blemished his skin, he remembered the remarks, how no one would be able to share that blotch of his with him because who could ever love him? Who could ever endure him, with all of that ego and all of that anger? And as time passed, he believed it, he believed them, that he wasn’t worthy to be loved, that he was only meant to save, not be saved as well, not even from himself.

But there you were, there you fucking were, crying and laughing and struggling to breath as you repeated the words you’ve been dying to confess, 

“I love you, Katsuki.”

Suddenly, that speckle that was always hidden under his socks brought him happiness, brought him love, and damn did he deserve it, because he fought for it, he endured hell for it, and there you were, wrapped around his arm and repeating those three words against his lips between heated kisses.

He was pleasure and lust. Rough groans and mutual needs. A burning touch. Your name hanging by his lips, breathless kisses and hair-tugging and hot flesh against hot flesh.

He was an illusion you thought it'll never materialize, and yet here he was. 

Here he was, all highs and lows, smiles and frowns, softness and roughness, carefulness and danger. Here he was, a tiny spark of thunder, sparkling with passion, loyalty and dedication, protection, satisfaction, confidence and love.

Here he was…

Where was he?

The inking you used to spend hours admiring now haunts you, the design that used to whirl and twirl across your wrist as you hummed while tracing it now felt like shackles, squeezing so tight against you as you tried to break free. The black almost shrouded by the coats of metallic red that spilled from your attempts of escape. The dark crimson that matches his eyes, the eyes you know you won't forget, you know you don't want to forget, no matter how you’ll feel better if you do.

The girl staring right at you through the distorted reflection created by the dishwasher judged you, all mangled and blurry, yet the tear stains and numb eyes are hard to ignore, easily cutting through the deformed reflection.

You and the girl in front of you envied your friend, the aromantic that was never interested to fall in love, only possessing their own tattoo that graced their ankle, with no one else's accompanying it, sure it looked lonely on some days, but who were you to judge?

You remembered what they always told you, that it wasn't always the fairy tales your family fed you. They told you about their mother, who had an affair and fell in love, spending almost a year hiding the tattoo of her fling from her husband before being caught, they told you how their father was broken beyond repair, he who also was so drunk on the idea of falling in love and being loved in return, just like you were for all those years. They told you of the heart break that you might have to face when your partner’s inking is embedded into you, but not the other way around, how you had to decide whether to wait for your own personal design to mark its location onto them or leave, always being haunted by the part of them that you can't get rid of, no matter what you do.

They never told you about this kind of heartbreak though, the one where you’re both so in love, so happy, destined to be together forever, because what could possibly go wrong?

You never got the answer to that, you remembered asking him as he dragged his suitcase out of the apartment, the tears cascading down his face never answered you as he apologized again and again, mumbled how you deserved to be loved by someone that wasn’t him, babbled about him not deserving you. About how he won’t ever love someone besides you when he caught your eye scanning whatever was visible of his arms, in fear of finding out a piece of someone that wasn't yourself.

You finally got up, legs numb and steps wobbly from sitting on the floor for so long, you eyed the door, still unlocked after his leave a couple of hours ago - maybe more it's still unclear - no urge of yours strong enough to get you up to lock it again. You moved slowly, as if the shuffle of your feet is causing you pain, and in a way, it did, because you know when you reach the living room couch, there won't be the warm arms that engulfed you, because what else did you have other than the warmth you surrounded yourself with when you told him to hold you close to him?

That's right, nothing. 

As you laid down on the couch and allowed yourself to be suffocated by the scent of caramel, you cursed at all the fantasies and dreams that clouded your mind day and night, you frowned and scrunched your nose at the scent that used to mean love and warmth, but now only burnt your nose and teared up your eyes.

A constant reminder, just like the defaced wrist you brought closer to inspect and hissing when the cold air bit at it. You recalled the lilacs and swore at them, the same lilacs that symbolized love and passion, but looking more withered and torn the more you looked at them.

Good, guess they know how I feel.

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

[kstewdeux]

Inspired By This Post

Summary: Kagome demonstrates what she’s learned from Sango and Inuyasha is brought to his knees

Save The Horse

‘This is what I get for bringing her,’ Inuyasha thought miserably as he pried his face out of the dirt and shook himself to get rid of the dust. It seemed like a good idea when he first thought of it! Three years away from her had caused problems that he was still working out. Twelve months in and there were still times he woke up in a cold sweat even though she was right there - his heart beating so fast it started skipping. Nightmare upon nightmare with him still crouched at the bottom of the well believing he would never get to see her again and fighting back the crushing despair that accompanied realizing he very well might be alone forever. Bringing her with him would keep his mind clear. If he could physically see her, he wouldn’t be distracted during battle or rush through things that shouldn’t be rushed. It was crippling how often he obsessed over seeing her again - to make sure she actually came back. A few times he’d even lost focus and nearly taken an unnecessary hit. The fear always there that maybe he’d gone insane and that her return was just some grand hallucination everyone was going along with out of pity. Sometimes it got so bad he’d even randomly tear up even though there was nothing to cry about anymore. She’d come back but the very idea she’d be taken from him again…

That she wasn’t real…

Anyway this foolproof plan to keep a clear mind and alleviate his lingering depressed paranoia had just been shot to shit. One utterly devastating movement on her part and he was an even bigger mess than he would’ve been if he’d just gone it alone.

 All it took was for Kagome to show off her imaginably hard-earned expertise in horse riding and combat tactics. That was all it took to turn his legs into jelly and melt his mind to the point he tripped over his own feet. But how else was he supposed to react when his woman demonstrated her strength, agility and grace? In the span of less than a minute, Kagome had gone from a riding position to literally balancing herself on the back of a moving animal and aiming her bow at the same time. When she hit the mark with expert precision and maneuvered herself to her original position without so much as losing her breath, his whole body had shivered and next thing he knew he had faceplanted in front of an enemy. This had to be the most humiliating moment of his life to date….

Or the onset of his inevitable descent into madness because Kagome being strong enough to kick his ass rather than resorting to using beads to take him down was simply too good to be true. His mind making fantasies come to life because he’d officially cracked.

Groaning, Inuyasha shook his head to clear it. No. No, he wasn’t crazy. Kagome pulling that horse trick off was just a fluke. Woman did try things every once in a while that just miraculously worked out…

Amber eyes darted up to locate his wife and another involuntary groan passed over his lips at yet another position he had no idea she could do. It almost looked like she was falling off the horse – almost parallel with the ground, she was holding herself up with nothing but muscle mass while also managing to shoot an enemy straight in the face.

If his eyes were wrong, he suddenly didn’t care to see right ever again. That had to be the single most arousing thing he’d ever seen her do. Almost like it was picked straight out of his dreams.

So what if he’d finally gone crazy? Totally worth it.

‘You’re not crazy,’ Inuyasha chided himself silently as he shakily got to his feet, ‘You know she’s been taking lessons. Maybe that’s where she learned how to do…”

A shuddering sigh escaped him when Kagome slid to the other side of the horse and repeated the action.

“That…oh shit…”

In hindsight, he should’ve asked more questions when Kagome told him Sango was giving her horseback riding lessons alongside the twins. It never even occurred to him that it would be battle related. While he’d seen the slayer do some of these moves riding Kilala, it never crossed his mind that those moves might translate to other animals. What else had Sango been teaching this woman?! A shiver ran down his spine at the image of them wrestling in a more aggressive way before he forced his mind to get out of the gutter and focus on the task at hand.

Demon horde. They were fighting a demon horde.

With a learned hand, Kagome suddenly turned her weapon with a flick of her wrist and smacked the ever living shit out of a demon that had gotten too close for comfort purifying the bastard who exploded in a cloud of pink dust. Despite his half-assed efforts to stay online, Inuyasha’s executive functioning crashed. It was literally all he could do to keep his legs from going out from under him. His breathing heavy and shaking as he tried to keep control over his impulses.

Later. There’s be time for that later.

Later…

A involuntary moan passed over his lips while his eyes glazed over imagining a whole new world of possibilities before his whole body jerked when he remembered that they’d come here for a reason.

Demon horde. Right. Helping. A thing he should do.

Before he could fully collect himself, Inuyasha’s higher thought process flew the coop when, with what could only be described as a showing of brute strength, Kagome swung down one handed to land a kick that sent a demon flying before effortlessly pulling herself back up with awe inspiring grace.A normally unshakeable man crumpled to his knees - a prisoner of his own making as the miko took on the last two demons with a smirk that had shivers running down her husband’s spine.

Somewhere in the most distant part of his cloudy mind the thought once again occurred to him that he should probably be helping right now but when his wife made any help unnecessary with one last arrow which held such a punch it blew her hair back, his thoughts officially flatlined.

“Inuyasha?” Kagome breathed anxiously as she about turned her horse and made her way over to his shaking form, “Are you okay?”

Dilated amber eyes locked onto hers when she slid off her ride but before his wife could ask any further questions, his lips were on hers and with a few simple maneuvers, Inuyasha made sure that horse wasn’t the only thing his wife rode that day.

[prose-for-hire]

Heart-shaped bruise

Part Two

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Could you do a Spike x reader, where the reader is In love with him, but he still loves Buffy, but overtime he started feeling the same way towards them as well

Requested by: @wiccanindigo​

Warning: Mention of Spuffy. Angst... I think.

A/N: Me? Writing something that isn’t fluff? Is this even possible?! 

You were completely in love. Infatuated, in fact. You couldn’t barely think without your mind wondering to him. 

Spike.

You were in deep. You adored him, your eyes always on him. No matter where he was in the room you just couldn’t help it.

You wanted him so badly. Found yourself dreaming about him, feeling his body beside yours in that hazy moment between sleep and wake. Reaching for him and finding yourself sorely disappointed.

It got worse, you began to daydream about him. You hid yourself in these fantasy worlds that you created around you and him. Imagining him wanting you. Choosing you. Kissing you and loving you the way you wanted. Craved.

This love that you held, it was unrequited. It was deep and unending. You were completely his and you had no way of even beginning to describe it to him.

It burned you up inside. Made you ache with such longing. Almost physically pained you because you loved him so much.

You were drowning in this feeling. The only way your head ever came up for air was when he interacted with you. When you got all of his attention. You became lost in his eyes instead. At least that way, if he was looking at you there was some part of you with him. In his head. His vision. The way he was in every sense of yours.

He could ground you. Make you feel like it was only you and him.

And some days, that was all you needed. To know that he did like you. That there was potential there. Sometimes you swore that look in his eye meant something. Meant he harboured affection for you.

He always flirted. You knew somewhere in the logical part of your brain that was fast losing to the rest of you that it probably wasn’t real. Nevertheless you clung to it. Held on to even the smallest attention he would give you. You were desperate for any tiny interaction. You felt as if you had withered and died should you miss a day where you didn’t interact with him.

He often gravitated towards you in the Bronze or wherever it was that he found you after he had another run-in with Buffy.

“Alright, love? You wanna watch out givin’ a man that kind of look. Gives a fella ideas.” He would always greet you in this kind of way.

“Are they good ideas, Spike?”

“Downright sinful ones” he smirked and enjoyed the way you looked at the ground a little flustered. His words. His perfectly-crafted stupid words. The things they did to you. The tone of his voice. The teasing quality. He made you want to jump in his arms when he spoke this way, all but tackle him to the ground and finally have your way with him.

But you had to rein yourself in. His personality was like that. You had always known this. He flirted his way around a room, often to get something he wanted. Charmed people to his will. But it never seemed that way with you. Just did it to keep your company. Never really wanted anything from you except conversation. Time spent by his side.

Your heart was beating so hard and so fast that you were sure your heart was causing some irreversible damage. That you would remove your clothing that evening and look in the mirror to find a heart-shaped bruise stamped onto your skin.

A mark that was made by him. For him. It was always him. It was only ever going to be him.

You had hope in your heart, the way he spoke to you. Way he made sure you were safe where he wouldn’t care in the slightest about the others. The way you would leave the Bronze or patrol just to talk. To sit in his crypt together and watch tv.

He enjoyed your company, you had to believe that. Had to believe that he wanted you in the same way. That his flirtation wasn’t just to pass the time.

Maybe his feelings weren’t as strong as yours. Maybe they were hidden, waiting for you. Maybe he was carefully imagining an all-encompassing love story in his mind the way you did. And you had truly thought it all. You even had the musical score to go along with your love story with him, that’s how detailed your need for him was.

One dark day though, your hopes were completely taken from you. Snatched away. You had woken with a horrible feeling and it had only got worse. You had a hole where your heart had been when you saw it. You felt empty inside. Numb.

Your whole life revolved around him, but his now revolved around her.

You saw them together. Spike and Buffy. It was as if someone had punched you in the gut.

You went sour at the thought. About what they were doing together. What they might be whispering. Talking about. And when you considered what they might be doing together… it made you ache. Quiver with want.

You kept your distance for a while, marinating in your own jealousy. The way you craved him, it wasn’t natural. It was more than your heart could take.

He had invited you to his crypt, the usual way. Gestured with his head when you were at the back of the group on patrol. Even with the way you had been feeling recently, the distance. The way your heart had crumbled into a desolate wasteland. You knew you could never say no. You had tried to be stronger. Keep your distance but you had trouble when it came to him.

Your head was so dizzy with the idea of him. With the swell of hope that you could never push down when he offered time alone with you.

He smiled and pulled you onto the sofa by his side. Natural touch he would usually use around you hadn’t stopped just because of how he felt for Buffy. You sat down beside him, as close as you always would.

Sometimes you felt you were sat so close you might as well slide into his lap. You weren’t to know he wouldn’t have complained in the slightest. But you never did. Never dared. Especially not now.

You spent the next twenty minutes sitting in front of the tv in silence. Your face barely moved and he caught it. He always did, as if he had shares in your emotions. He was invested, he never pretended otherwise.

He started to make stupid comments about the characters. Pointing out the plot holes and the stunt doubles that could be seen so clearly just to cheer you up. It made you smile despite yourself.

He could always make you smile.

Eventually you joined in, getting caught up in it. In him. Again.

You both laughed together at something you had said, your humour was so similar. Yo ufit so perfectly…

But with this stupid thought, you suddenly stopped laughing. Your face went blank. You had been doing it again. Pretending this was real. Pretending he loved you. Wanted you.

But he didn’t. He wanted her. Loved her.

“I can’t do this,” You admitted suddenly as you got to your feet, “We can’t see each other anymore Spike.”

“What? I’m not sure I followed you round that particular bend, love-”

“Don’t call me that!”

“What – love? I always call you that-” He frowned, using the remote to turn off the tv.

“It-it makes it so much harder” You said, tears welling in your eyes.

“I’m not sure I’m understandin’ you right” he said slowly, squinting at you and trying to decipher your words.

“You would rather be with someone who hates you than the one that… loves you!” You admitted this, shouting it in his face. Not how you had ever imagined revealing such intimate emotions to him, “And it- it hurts so bad, Spike. So bad. Because I know you’ll never love me. Because you love her…”

He stopped dead at the way you had laid yourself bare. The way you had shouted your love for him. The way that your emotions were so evident on your face. He began to hurt when he saw you hurting. He held affection for you, he had never denied that.

But now he was thinking. Truly thinking about what you meant to him. The way he could talk to you about anything. He had shared some things he thought he could never dare speak out loud.

The way you had cared so much for him you had helped him back to his crypt after another fight with Buffy, listening to him whining about how much he loved her. The way you looked after him so tenderly.

He thought about his own actions with you. How he always flirted with you as much as he did with Buffy. How he lit up when it was you and him together. How you both snuck away from the others to do something fun. Watch tv or swap books that you had enjoyed.

He thought about how he knew he would do anything to protect you. From harm - a demon or otherwise. How he sought to make you smile.

You made him laugh. Made him feel something. Like he was a man, not just some monster. He was finally realising something that should have been so plain to see. That there was something there, between you both.

“I- I do like you in that way, pet…” he realised it as he spoke it.

He got to his feet, closing the space between you. Those eyes scanning your face. Able to read only now the way you felt so deeply. Only now realising this was how you felt. How had he been so blind? So wrapped up in what he and Buffy had going on? In how he felt for her?

He leaned in to kiss you. To give you what you wanted. He only wanted you happy. Wanted you to feel good. Suddenly that was all that mattered to him. You feeling his affection, however small it was. It was there and he was feeling it. It was growing every second he thought about it, he could almost physically feel it. He leant in, his hand reaching for you as he started to press his lips to yours. His eyes began to close as he got closer.

But you moved backwards from his grasp.

“No, Spike” You said firmly and his face pulled into a frown. He hated rejection and at the hands of someone that had just admitted their love he hadn’t been expecting it. Meaning it almost stung more than if he had been nervous about it - expecting to be pushed away.

“Will you bloody make your mind up?! I just said that I-”

“That you like me. I can’t settle for you just liking me, Spike… not when you’ve told me how in love with Buffy you are on so many occasions. I don’t want to be some afterthought to you” You admitted, opening sobbing now as you spoke, “It’s all or nothing, that’s the only way.”

And when he couldn’t reply. Couldn’t tell you that he loved you in the same way, you left. Walked away and didn’t look back.

You didn’t see that his arm was still reaching for you in mid-air. As if now this was all that mattered to him. Having you back. Having you with him in that way. He hadn’t realised that growing affection until you had said those words for him. Managed to articulate it better than he could.

It was only just dawning on him properly. And the idea of losing you knocked him sick. He needed you back here and he couldn’t understand why you weren’t going to stay with him.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed how fond he was for you. How he found himself wrapping around your little finger with just a glance his way. He knew it all and yet he had been distracted.

Because his love for Buffy was so big. Burned so bright and she had allowed him into her bed. She had left you in the shadows. But now you were beginning to glow again.

[sugar-petals]

Club Daemon (m)

PAIRING. merman!baekhyun x vampire!reader

↳ PLOT. You join a club of half-demons all hailing from different supernatural species — and find an unexpected love.  

↳ WORDS. 27k

TAGS / WARNINGS ⚠️ eventual smut, jealousy, explicit bloodsucking sex (mutual oral, vaginal), fangs kink, pining, groping, femdom!reader, angst/action, neck fixation, rough sex, fantasy au

The room is filled with smoke, but not from any cigarettes. Somewhere around here, or so you’ve been told, must be the entrance to actual hell. 

A gloomy spiral staircase headed for the core of the earth, kind of rusty and gleaming in red, fog everywhere, you get the idea. But so far… that’s none of your business. And either way.

The architecture in the part of the mansion you were invited to elegantly pools into a massive door of brass and copper. An embossed piece, amazingly sculpted — a hundred years old or more.

The center depicts a translucent emblem that appears to be strangely double-headed. Two facial profiles. One gazing east, the other, west. What exactly that’s supposed to mean: You have no idea, but you get the gist. Some kind of Greek mythology visual going on there. 

Doesn’t look like hell, does it.

You approach the door with slowed steps, tug your blazer into a comfortable fit at the lower hem. Had a mint? Check. Documents? Check. Posture? Semi-check. Adjusting necessary. Back straight, firmer walk. Done. Hopefully. As long as you don’t have to take those reckless stairs down south, you’re surprisingly ready for this. And what kind of preparations can you take for this kind of encounter in the first place anyway.

Beside the door, a concierge behind a luxurious, bulky table lifts his golden-framed glasses. They’re exceptionally thin and round, making their wearer appear like a wise, yet prying owl. Mister Mark Lee, apparently, going by how Taemin described him to you. 

Oh God, Taemin’s pointers saved your life finding this place. He’s been so forthcoming and took the time to explain as much as he could. The moment makes you reminisce a little. Your eyes lose focus.

Meanwhile, fully in the moment, the conscierge seems to cloud himself in the mystery of his dark green suit without any words. A man as groomed as this very Victorian penthouse. And this very borough, and this very carpet you’re standing on. Greeting you with a nod as understated as can be. 

It’s not like he’s treating you like air — he simply keeps the certain reserve you’d expect from a nocturnal bird. Or so it seems. That you’d be scrutinized you already expected, but this way feels a bit uneasy in the chest. If you’re the mouse to the owl, you want to move on past that door as fast as you fucking can.

You try to continue standing straight and hand him your letter as inconspicuously as possible. Oh, that damn piece of paper that turned your life around. A little ‚good evening‘ barely leaves your throat and Mister Lee presses a button underneath the table top after gazing over the document nearly thrice. Following his insistent eyes, you leave your phone on the table altogether, and now have virtually nothing to hold onto. You opt for putting your hands in your navy blue pants pockets. If that’s any good around here, staying a little hellishly casual. 

‘A very good evening indeed,‘ is what Mister Lee’s eyes seem to reply.

The door shifts open with a dull, booming sound. Very well then. You stagger inside toward what’s hopefully behind it — suddenly feeling so terribly exhausted. Hazy. You don’t know how it hit you. So many scents. Impressions. Movement. Space. Eyes. Heartbeats. 

You try hard to focus on the first candle you can see around, and you do find one, and it does ground you. After their split-second delirium, your feet anchor on the carpet now, and the scenery pulls you back to breathing. Now, the bigger picture becomes a lot clearer. 

There are several men settled everywhere across the room that opens before you so luxuriously. All dressed in the finest of garments and polished shoes, donning the most annoyingly impeccable haircuts on top of that. Everything about this room screams dignity, and haughtiness, and a hefty bank account. 

But you can’t deny another, stronger hunch. The presence of one gentleman in particular sends a chilly feeling down your spine. You can’t tell who it is now. You just know that somebody here is very different. Dangerously so.

Between armchairs, chandeliers, blood-filled cups and side tables, you spot arrangements of night-blooming jasmine and daffodils. Large and opulent, really catching your eye with their elegant trumpet shapes. 

Perhaps, and you really have no clue whether that’s a good theory, to suggest that however solid teak and mahogany this entire interior might be, there is still life and scent in it. But it’s all… so carefully curated. Too deliberate to be authentic in the very least, and that’s what is making you tense up so much. You know very well that nobody in this room, if it weren’t for this meeting, would be preoccupied with flowers. Except maybe Taemin. But he’s half-elven, so that doesn’t count. Elves love jasmine.

Meanwhile, you suspect that the cups with blood were purposely brought in to catch you off guard pretty much right away. To test your self-control, get you startled, or lord knows what. Power games in this club, you’d not be surprised. But the scent really is so overbearing. You become all light-headed. Whatever they set up for you here, it’s already working. You feel like falling asleep in the middle of the damn night. 

The fumes, and the candles, and the daffodils—

„Wong Yukhei,“ a voice finally pierces through the mist inside your brain. 

You perk up. It belongs to a figure seated in the deeper middle of the room. A dark-haired man, noticeably tall and baritoned, with full lips, immense shoulders. In fact, a frame to behold all tailored in matte black. Down to the pointed oxford shoes, laced up in a very brisk way as if someone pulled a corset very tight.

„Yes—?“

„Half-lycan. Club president. Have a seat.“

Now you know why he speaks first.

It’s like you’re frozen on the spot. Judging by how muscular he is underneath that very suit, especially around the upper body, you don’t want to catch a glimpse of what happens when the moon says hi. Half werewolf it is. No wonder his hands are huge like paws. You don’t have to count one and one together to know that this guy could go casual beastmode and rip the room’s door in half.

„A... alright.“

Stammering like a fool isn’t something you planned but comes out as a sheer reflex. To distract from the awkward tone, you resort to looking around. You wonder if the club is in full attendance. Because who knows, they could await some more people like you later on. There are actually quite a few empty seats to choose from. A dozen, perhaps a bit more. Each with a filled cup on a table, right to the brim, one more flavorful than the other.

Since the president didn’t gesture towards any seat in particular, you find yourself having to make an intuitive choice. Whether that’s some werewolfey ‚where does she put up her territory?‘ personality quiz or whatever… is unimportant because your nose is already telling you precisely where to sit anyway. In fact, obnoxiously so. It’s itching like crazy at most of the scents except one. You realize — at least that you can rely on. There’s that one cup you want to be close to. Ignoring it would probably torture you for the entire night so you give into it.  

Taking the empty chair at the chimney fire on the right side of the room comes naturally. And: With several eye pairs resting very firmly on you. But your attention is elsewhere already. The blood in the goblet of this particular table really does smell like the most delicious thing. There’s something magically attractive about the consistency. You can feel with your whole body just how amazingly juicy and welcoming the drink is. For a strange reason, it seems like it’s almost iridescent. You’ve never seen that before. Everyone in the room has the current pleasure of watching you being smitten by a fucking drink.

There’s no way they didn’t see you lick your lips like a first class pervert either.

Whatever first impression you’re giving them, it’s one that makes a part of you mentally run out the door again. Poor Taemin thought you were a promising invitee. You feel bad for disappointing him already. Slave to your instincts, how on earth are you even supposed to sit here in the finest and highest of company. Creating sexual tension over a glass of blood in a millionaire’s club or whatever.

Still, against all odds, the other part of you glady reclines in your seat, sleazy like a retired Russian oligarch on his yacht. Because that means: Smelling that heavenly scent up close. Hell, just fuck everything else. It’s the most gratifying thing you’ve come across. Did they brew you a damn magic potion or something? 

You have a hard time snapping back to the conversation and realize everyone is still intently looking at you admiring your cup as if it’s a prime time television event with Zac Efron in it. Which you now force yourself to break from. Not so gladly this time. You really want to have a sip, but Yukhei’s pressing gaze demands you to make your move. You wonder why his eyes are so livid, but again realize that he probably doesn’t need the moon to be wolf-like, does he.

„So you were the one who came up with inviting me, then?“ you say, and the words come out much more bluntly. It surprises you. Since you skipped the introduction and small talk altogether, maybe your mouth thought, why not strike a direct tone. Just being in the vicinity of something so mouthwatering makes you feel on top of the world out of literal nowhere. You’re about to lose your train of thought again that Yukhei fervently shakes his head.

„It was Baekhyun’s suggestion. A terribly daring one I thought,“ he says. „Thank him that we agreed to meeting you in person. In fact, he was very adamant we’d do so.“

You look around the assembly, hoping to find clarity about whoever prompted the invitation letter. Since nobody seems to put anything forth, you quiz yourself on who of these gentlemen looks like a Baekhyun, and why nobody is reacting. Everyone’s literally sitting there like marble statues. 

According to Taemin, getting an invitation to Club Daemon is not only something that excludes the general public, but also merely a fleeting ‚rumor‘. Not even a neighborhood legend if it came down to it. Because on more official papers, this guild does not exist. Whoever wanted to invite you was indeed taking a notable risk — to the president’s nuisance, on top of that.

Oh yeah. Now you’re at the edge of your seat.

„Eh. I’m afraid Baekhyun cannot meet you in this particular setting,“ Yukhei breaks into a lop-sided smirk. You’re shocked he’d pull a dismissive face like that. So openly, like he simply doesn’t give one damn all of a sudden. Strangely enough, it still doesn’t take away from just how nobly he’s dressed. It’s seriously messing with your head. Or is it the goblet?

„So, this setting, um—“

You look like Yukhei just spoke in a different language now. Stifled laughter among the guild members. At least they’re reacting now. That’s progress. But you’re even more confused and stuff your hands back into your pockets.

„See. Carpets are typically not Baekhyun’s favored grounds. He’s half-merman,“ Yukhei continues, very much composed in his seat now just as before. And it finally registers.

Oh man.

You can’t spot some giant water tank in this room or anything of that kind. There’s no way he could just casually hang out here. Of course he can’t greet you in the club. Sweet Jesus. You have too much blood and flower scent around you.

„But not to worry. You’ll get to meet your sweet benefactor,“ Yukhei leans back, the smirk growing even wider. „Baekhyun can speak to you in the club bathroom from time to time. If he’s not out there playing around in the bays like the kid he is.“

„I see? Uh...“

You shift back and forth in your seat. Even if your brain somehow tries to piece that information together, keeping your eyes off the chalice is so hard all over again. 

You can’t lie, it’s even starting to get you hot and bothered from the toes up. Gritting your teeth is all you can do not to gasp out loud. Literally, you’re one moan away from semi-public indecency. That is, if human law applies to this room. Going by how everyone is so keen to see you react, it probably doesn’t. Your ears are telling you that pretty much everyone is holding their breath right now. Untouched orgasm at 7:30 PM? Wasn’t on your plan either. But looks like you’re headed for it. You wonder if Yukhei has been planning to set you up for this and—

„We didn’t put this up to confuse you, Y/N. Please feel free to drink. We want you to feel welcome here,“ a second, innately friendly voice addresses you now, parting the silence like a vintage knife through warm butter. It’s much softer than Yukhei’s, as if laced with honey.

Immediately, you recognize the sound. It is Taemin.

Seated to Yukhei’s far left in a flawlessly upright posture. Blond and lavish, dressed in a type of brocade tux. It seems to be a mix of burgundy and golden pipings in the fire light, but you could be wrong. With good reason and regard to most members present, the room is kept very dark. In fact, the atmosphere couldn’t be any more controlled. Nevertheless — finally reuniting with him is such a relief. You already want to thank him for averting a full-on catastrophe.

„Taemin! It’s good to see you again,“ you finally break the tension. Your tone loses all discomfort, your face brightens. Taemin gently bows in response. His poise lights up the room, and you even manage to detach from the chalice.

„The pleasure is ours. It’s great to see you again as well.“

You recall. The memory is still so vivid. He was the one who brought you the letter in the late evening. You were sitting on your balcony scrolling through your phone feed and boom. There he was, sitting — even seemingly glowing or whatever it was — in a cherry tree. With his pointy ears and an envelope for you, the exact invitation Baekhyun had suggested. As far as you can remember, he’s been elected as the Club’s vice president very recently.

Taemin explained a lot of the club’s incentives to you on the balcony. Even if you did manage to drop your phone in shock at his appearance, his open approach had you packing up your bags for the mansion in a matter of two days. Seems like the club knows who to send when they don’t want to intimidate possible recruits. If Yukhei showed up in that dark suit and the low brow, you probably would’ve turned into a bat and headed for the forest. Well, or something like that. Meanwhile, Taemin feels like you’ve been familiar for decades.

„Do drink. It is handpicked for you!“

„Thank you, Taemin,“ is all you can say, and turn back to your drink with shaky hands. Finally. And well. If Taemin offers it, it can’t be wrong. It’s far too late to ignore it anyway. You already grab the base of the chalice like you’re holding on to dear life.

The first sip is so hasty, Yukhei almost has to laugh out loud. Or is it a laugh? Taemin frowns right at him, but you’re too busy chugging to notice. Hawthorn, lotus, apples, water lily, chestnuts and vanilla. So many nuances, too little tastebuds and too little words to describe it. You’ve never tasted blood of such a quality. For free. Not one pause to breathe, it just goes down like fine liquor.

Everything in your body starts to feel completely alert. Whoever this blood belongs to, whatever is going on, this is the most thrilling feeling you’ve experienced in a while. It’s like floating inches above your seat. Your face is feeling all heated as if the chimney fire burns your cheeks. Your skin is normally pretty cold and stays that way if you think about it. 

At the same time, you’re surprisingly refreshed on the inside. The blood left a minty trace on the back of your tongue. You know the men are watching you, but you can’t help but ride the high of the taste for a few seconds with your eyes closed. Once the rush is fully over, you slack in your seat. Open your eyes. And sigh out. Goddamn. 

If that means to feel welcome here, then you’re more than convinced. Taemin knows how to serve an aperitif. Everything about your body feels relaxed. You bet your pupils are more blown than Yukhei’s dick in his freetime going by how he sits and watches your reaction. Manspreading is an understatement. Wolfspreading is the new thing. Literally, what on earth happened. He’s glowering at you like you just stole the keys to the glitzy silver sportscar that’s parked in front of the mansion and without a doubt must be his. Your eyes aren’t deceiving you even if the light is so dim: He’s straight-up gotten all angry to the point of gritting his teeth.

But there’s also something that tells you he’s afraid.

„Now, you probably want to know why we’re interested in you, right,“ Taemin gently continues once you put the empty chalice down and make very needed use of the napkin already placed next to the cup. Heartbeat: Speed of a bullet train arriving at a station.

„I’m starting to see why.“

Most of your exhaustion is actually… gone. Out of the blue. You’re feeling much more perceptive, much faster in every move. Maybe Edward was right with his personal brand of heroin. You just never knew because you had 5 Pounds 50 blood from TESCO’s every day until now. So that’s that.

„We didn’t find a novice in twenty years,“ Taemin says. „Nor a half-vampire for that matter.“

In passing, he ushers a slender-looking butler towards your table. Casually, as if he did it a million times already. So far, using the shade of the lighting, the butler had been blending in with a velvet curtain until now. You ask yourself if you’ve actually noticed him or not. You can’t clearly tell which is strange. But then again, going by the course of events until now, not really.

„Right,“ you reply, trying to focus on Taemin — without much success. The butler simply looks too striking. He uses a large carafe to refill what probably measures up to another quarter liter into your chalice. He looks at you with sheer intent, it’s Yukhei’s gaze times ten, almost like it’s bundled into a lazer. Instead of being excited about the refill, you find yourself trying to desperately decipher the butler’s look. It’s not wolfy this time, that’s for sure. It’s something far, far different. It’s something deeply scary.

The butler lingers. It takes five seconds too long for him to return to the curtain. There’s that feeling again. That hunch from before when you came in, so much stronger now. You’re shivering. The man looks so serious in his crisp red suit, with the pin stripes and a golden pocket watch at his lapel. His aura is so freezing cold.

„Meaning, our guild could urgently use a new addition,“ Taemin keeps on speaking, with Yukhei closely listening to how he puts his words. In the meantime, the butler stands completely still in the dark, merging with the curtain almost completely again. But you can tell his eyes are on you. His frame looks so skinny at a distance, but you can tell he’s much stronger than that. Lord knows Yukhei might not be the only one who could break the door in half.

You hold on tight to the napkin in your lap. Where you thought you’d feel elated, you’re all sober now.

„Twenty years is a long time,“ you comment, a lot more dryly this time.

Even in a club where nobody ages by human standards, this could be quite a frustration. Looking around, you begin to understand why the invitation was such an urgent matter and there are many more empty seats. All the members look very established and at home to say the very least. Nobody here appears to be a novice.

„It is,“ Taemin replies. „You can see why we wanted to talk to you.“

„Yes. I can. Thank you for considering me. It was a bit out of nowhere but, I guess there’s no way to do it differently.“

Taemin nods. Meanwhile, Yukhei remains visibly displeased in his center seat, with his expression growing much darker by the minute. You can’t tell whether he didn’t like you downing the blood so fast like a post-diet Dracula or how Taemin explained all of this to you now. You don’t have to wonder for a long time, though.

„That we expand our assembly with a half-vampire out of all possibilities— was not my idea,“ Yukhei taps his fingers onto the lion-shaped armrests of his chair. The poor fellas probably have a hard time carrying his frame, fragile as they look. Taemin, on the other hand, is as nonchalant and petite as you got to know him. Like a feather on his seat, he sways his torso ever so slightly while he listens. Then, he reaches over to pat Yukhei on the shoulder with a wide, reassuring smile.

„But you were still delighted that Baekhyun found someone, didn’t you.“

„You make it sound like a public holiday. Eh, we’re recruiting, Taemin.“

„You didn’t take too long to agree to sending the invitation at all. Back when Kai joined, you needed five months to say yes. And he’s half-lycan himself.“

„Because Jongin was a grade A stupid bastard… and still is,“ Yukhei darts an even lower gaze to a particularly shaded corner of the room. Whoever this guy Kai is, he’s sitting right there and grins his life away. Now that you set your eyes on him, you’re about to piss your fucking pants.

Even behind a particularly large array of jasmine bouquets, his silhouette looks the most powerful out of all the club members despite him not being as tall as Yukhei. Where you would’ve called the Yukhei ‚strong‘, Kai was first and foremost athletic — head to toe, with a looming frame. He’s kept silent for the entire time, but he sure listened well.

„It’s a competition, Yukhei,“ the silhouette crosses his legs, laughing. „Whoever is bastardly enough is qualified for being the club president. Sounds like I’m headed right for it. But you’re also knee-deep. Knee-deep, I’m telling you.“

Kai’s voice is much lighter than you thought it would be, but the way he speaks commands instant respect. Yukhei’s answer is a mixture of a growl and a huff, but it’s so blended together that it’s becoming hard to distinguish to your reeling ears. All you know is that the atmosphere in the room feels like a string ready to snap.

So that’s what half-lycans are all about, then.

In case they’re about to fully out-bastard each other, you take another sip to distract yourself. You hear your ears pulse even more. The blood really is delicious and takes your mind off. To your surprise and relief, Yukhei squarely turns to the assembly with a much more point-blank attitude in his movement now. Kai remains entirely ignored.

„That she’s not part of a vampire clan and we couldn’t find possible members for so long is the only reason she’s here, that’s all.“

„Enough a reason,“ Taemin smiles even wider, and puts more soothing into his phrasings. Kai’s unsettling presence doesn’t seem to faze him the very least. 

„We’d be happy to have you join us if you’re inclined,“ he now addresses you again. „I’m sure our talk about the training and formal things will bore you, though. I reckon you want to be introduced to your kind first.“

„Oh…“

Your kind.

That explains a lot. A whole damn lot, to be exact. You can’t help but suck in air, but it’s less awkward than you thought. In fact, your reaction brings some life into the room. Looks like everyone has anticipated this. Yukhei’s eyes narrow. Kai seems even more alert. You feel like a lab rat new to the cage.

„You felt his presence when you stepped in, didn’t you,“ Taemin asks, his head tilting a bit to the side.

You did. The half-elf looks confirmed in his statement.

„It’s him, right,“ you direct your eyes toward the curtain, but don’t dare to lift your gaze any further.

The butler.

He’s been sticking out like a sore thumb.

You felt him since the very first moment.

„Yes,“ Taemin says.

Your suspicion, or rather, what your body told you from the beginning with every shiver and every fiber, was entirely right: With an interpretation you couldn’t grasp just then. But now you do. Your intuition didn’t lie.

„Ma’am. Pleased to meet you. Lee Taeyong,“ the butler strikes a surprisingly fluid introduction. You freeze up again. It’s very unlike his stiff positioning, stepping forth from his usual waiting place so his face is visible to you in candle light entirely at a bit of a distance. Lee Taeyong. His face… really is sharp.

„I was expelled from my clan 80 years ago,“ he disposes of his tray to speak freely now. His voice is so deep, it almost resonates in your ribcage. But then, you see something vulnerable in him. You don’t know what it is.

„Expelled?“

„You can imagine. They found out I wasn’t full vampire,“ he continues. Now you do see them. His fangs. You should’ve noticed. Damn. „That’s how I got here.“

And now you actually get what happened. Taeyong is an outcast. Looking past his teens, 150, 170 years, a tenth of Taemin’s age at the very least. And he’s half-vampire who’s been on his own pretty much: Just like you. That’s something that still didn’t sink in yet. Your kind. The butler of Club Daemon. 

No wonder he took his time pouring the blood into your chalice and looked at you like you’re some kind of revelation. If the cups in the room smell only half as delicious to him as they do to you? He has admirable self-control just standing there at the carpet without losing his mind.

You shift forward on your seat — as does Yukhei, unseen to you. Almost automatically, your tone becomes more tense.

„So what happened?“

„I didn’t know my entire family history until that point. I was orphaned,“ Taeyong expands, his mimic controlled. „The clan was all I knew. I never thought I could have any demon heritage. Literally any. For decades. Until my father showed up. It was…I didn’t know he was that far up the hierarchy.“

Your jaw drops. He has to be kidding you. That can only mean one thing, there’s only one person he could refer to.

„You met Satan personally?!“

Dead silence in the room. You could hear a pin drop. In fact, an elven hair strand.

„I wish I didn’t,“ the butler finally says. With a more silent voice. You can tell he has to cave in, force himself. „He gave me this.“

Taeyong begins to slowly loosen his tie. Taemin already averts his eyes. The butler goes on to reveal a left collarbone so scarred, you can’t bear to look at it for very long yourself. The tissue has been deeply torn. The bone, presumably broken twice, healed in an odd way on top of that. You feel the pain in the very same spot within your own body.

Taeyong doesn’t have to tell you that the altercation left his arm fully paralyzed. You just know, like you could sense his presence from far away already. Meeting his father changed his life forever in the worst way possible. Now you understand why Taeyong does the butlering in the club — he can keep his left hand behind his back at all times.

„His father rejected him,“ Yukhei says, sterner than ever. His anger has faded, and an extreme seriousness begins to sink his brows.

„It’s that — Neither my clan nor demon folk really want me present,“ Taeyong’s face is even more barren of an expression now. He’s bottled it all up, it’s hard to watch. It sounds like he hasn’t spoken about this for years. „This was the only place I could go at that point. Yukhei was very helpful. I hope you can feel the comfort of being accepted here like I do.“

„I… don’t understand why Satan would disapprove of you so much, Taeyong.“

„Some demons willingly get together with vampires,“ Taemin steps in now, careful in his intonation. „But Lucifer rarely does. And, only when he’s drunk. If you ask him on a normal day, and I know this sounds harsh… he despises most of pure vampires, and half-breeds even more so. He is also Yukhei’s father.“

„He is?!“

Now you’re almost falling off your chair. That Yukhei’s father must be one of the higher-ups in the demon ranks was already a no-brainer, but this —

„Idiot cast me from hell the second he found out I can grow these longer than his silly horns,“ Yukhei points at his mouth, baring all teeth now. Even in their natural shape, they’re already razor sharp, sporting clearly prominent fangs. Even your canines, and those are hardly used and worn down, aren’t as slicing as his. When he says he can grow them that long, you fucking believe him.

„He’s… not been the most accepting dad to say the least,“ Taemin folds his hands in his lap. “And doesn’t stick up for any mistakes.”

„’Cause he’s an insecure ass,“ Yukhei makes a disgusted grimace. „Fucks around and then gets mad at what he’s done. Vampire girls he sure likes when he’s doing one of his stupid orgies. But not the consequences. He’s so easily threatened. That’s almost funny.“

You’re stiffer than ever now, glued to your seat. Not in a million years did you think there was some serious family drama going on behind those fancy suits.

„So that’s why this club exists. Satan can’t handle us,“ Kai adds, kneading his thighs. Looking much more detached, almost demure. You can tell that Taeyong’s speech hit the underbelly of everyone in the room. That even Kai looks so sunken catches you off guard. „We’re half this, half that. I mean look at us. Yukhei and I could never be part of a pure wolves pack. Never. We can’t mingle with demons either. They doubt us in any place. Shitty situation.“

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Now, the double head emblem on the embossed door makes a lot more sense. It’s not just for the aesthetics. Two faces going into opposite directions. Always torn. Always the onlooker, yearning from a distance. Unable to go in either direction. Seems like you’re in the right place. Or the wrong one: Because you bet this assembly is the very eye of the storm.

„Why did Satan not try to attack the Club yet? Isn’t there even a stairway to hell in this house?“ you ask. If Satan got pissed off by Yukhei’s or Taeyong’s abilities, several people of that kind in one place sounds pretty much the ultimate provocation. Installing a designated hell door with smoke all around even more so. 

„He sure wants to,“ Kai shrugs, again, smirking in this very distinct way. He builds himself up again, and the teasing undertone in his voice strengthens back to normal. „But he’s afraid and doesn’t know about half of us. You see… Hellboy has no way of gauging what expects him. Even if he fucking hates us and wants us dead in a ditch, whatever. We know him inside out, too. Even more than he knows us. I’m sure he doesn’t want to face Taeyong now that he’s not young and weak anymore. He only exploits way down the hierarchy. He knows he can win there.“

„Makes… sense. Sort of— preying on vulnerable people.“

That an insecure hell boss is the reason this very club has formed? Seems to be a better explanation than you thought. No way so many species could stick together otherwise. How you’re in a room with two high functioning, protein-powered lycans both standing over six feet is already a miracle. Just sitting there sipping your bloody drink. There’s even an elf guy. That’s some surreal shit, even Salvador Dalí wouldn’t believe it.

„And, um. Saying that there’s a hell door is a joke Taemin pulls on every recruit,“ Taeyong scratches his head now. 

„Everybody thought that Mark was vaping but he actually put up a room difuser down the hall,“ Kai adds. „He’s using essential oils in there since a couple weeks. So sometimes we do have some fog round that area. But there’s no actual stairway or anything. It’s a club tradition... a hoax.“

Your what-the-fuck expression must be hard to beat right now.

„Er. All right then. So much about hell smoke.“

A whole damn prank. Taemin is not as angelic as he looks, is he. Still part demon, after all. It really felt like there was an entrance to hell around when you arrived here. Taemin’s little giggle right now doesn’t worry you as much as Yukhei’s grunting.

„So much about a hoax,“ he growls back. „I wish we actually had that door so I could go beat his ass.“

High functioning, protein-powered lycans with daddy issues. You never thought this club had major drama. Your lips think its time for another comfort sip from your chalice. Blessed thing you have that one. Because all this… got you into something bigger than expected. Eating shrimps on a terrace with some fellow half-breeds on a cozy Sunday evening? Nothing of that kind. Rating Christopher Lee movies and signing up on vampire tinder together just for fun? Nothing of that in sight.

„So, naturally. That we can recruit you is a good feat,“ Kai continues. „You might grow very strong in training.”

“Strong in training?”

“Vampire half-breeds are always up for a surprise. You see how Taeyong is like. He can open jars even I can’t crack. With just one hand. Long as we have a balance of power with hell, the Club is quite safe. Even from my father.“

Looks like what you got yourself into is a Cold War that coincidentally involves people from Down Under — but it’s not Australians.

„Are you Satan’s son as well, Kai?“

Kai shakes his head quite firmly. Just how stark his face structure is becomes visible when Taeyong puts a candle into his vicinity, helping you gauge Kai’s outline much better, which is a bit more reassuring. The butler seems to almost read your thoughts. Your initial shiver gladly has been in decline ever since Taeyong spoke up. And you do believe he can open those jars.

„My old man? Mammon.“

„Mammon? Ugh.“

You can already guess what this is all about. You don’t need to wait a second for Kai to go on a rant.

„He’s a fucker, fucked up, a fucking twat, and fucks around even more so than Satan,“ Jongin kicks his left foot, looking mighty grumpy in the candle light. „I’m sure you know what he’s in charge of. He likes fear and chaos. To say the very least.“

You sure can imagine. Mammon governs the most powerful resource on the planet. Or rather, what people do with it, so… you already don’t have to know anything more than that.

„Talking about him is of no use,“ Yukhei intervenes. „Lost cause, wasted time. What I wanna say is. The vampire clans also don’t know much about us either,“ he now points at you. „That’s our advantage. And the reason why you will have to quit most of your regular life if you agree to be a member. Or take a serum that will make you forget about meeting us. At least, up to the point where you received the letter. I know this is quite a severe change. You can imagine how discrete we have to be. Given everything you heard.“

Yukhei looks dead serious.

Well, alright then. The case is clear. This is legitimate big business.

Club „Most Hated Half-breeds“ Daemon. Outsiders, all of them. The first rule is: You do not talk about Club Daemon. A guild for the All-Transylvanian Rejects, the crossovers from hell gone hiding, the MIB of supernatural creatures. And all just because big daddy Lucifer loves to host an infernal orgy every now and then and never heard of a condom. It’s crazy. So much information intake, it’s time to sort your thoughts.

You take a deep breath, let the blood chalice dance in your cupped palm. Sweeping the remaining liquid at its very bottom, rhythmically. Sweet lifeline. You observe how the drops run as if nothing else in the world existed. And still, you have crystal clear hearing, and your voice is again becoming firmer. It’s the effect of the drink, you can feel it. Such good stuff, really.

„It’s not that I didn’t anticipate it. Taemin said something along those lines when we met. I get why you have to be discrete,“ you hum. Even telling you about the serum before any other information would give away too much. „I’d be back to square one anyway.“

Taemin nods at you.

„We’ll always be between elves and demons, mermen and demons, vampires and demons, werewolves and demons… This club wants to protect anybody who’s caught between chairs. We go to great lengths with secrecy. I hope you will join us in our cause. It’s a new life. Lucas has great plans for us.“

‚Lucas‘ seems to be Yukhei’s club nickname. Taemin appears to confide in him a lot even if he will smooth out his blunders. Meanwhile, you remember how Taemin talked to you about his own parents on the balcony. 

Apparently, none other than Beelzebub is Taemin’s father since over ten centuries. His latest habit seems to be blowing up his son’s phone with strange texts about recent hell politics. If that’s not enough, he asks about what he’s doing all day. It really is a new level of hell-icopter parenting. No wonder Taemin learned to be so appeasing in all situations.

„There are also ways of us finding out who your parents are,“ Taeyong comes to rest his right hand on your shoulder. Carefully, as if asking if it’s okay to touch you. You let him, without much care. Simply by— well, what is it, instinct?

Particularly Yukhei seems to observe this moment with much intent. Monitoring with piercing eyes, wild and deep. Trying to see through you at all cost. Surveying whether you’re a suitable club member, fair enough. But you seriously begin to wonder why he’s trying so damn hard to get into your head. He wants you on his side, sure, why’d he stare like that all the time?

Meanwhile, you don’t even know much about yourself except that you find veiny necks extremely appealing. Duh. So what’s there to analyze. You’re still kinda new to this. Blunt how Lucas is, wouldn’t he tell it to your face if he knew something you didn’t by now?

„At least, your demonic heritage,” Kai finishes the butler’s thought. “It’s not an easy discovery, however.“

Taeyong’s hand really does comfort you. But the thought of involving yourself in family affairs feels more than daunting and spoils the moment more than you want to. It’s something you could avoid until now thanks to simply not knowing much about your background. But apparently there’s no way to run from it.

„You might wanna anticipate that shit,“ Kai cracks his neck from side to side, then adjusts the sleeves of his white camisole. You’re suddenly so very well aware that he can probably see and smell your hesitation from a mile away. „Because when pa from hell shows up to see what’s going on? Preparation is better than being sorry. You gotta know who you’re dealing with. Art of war 101.“

Kai pointing at Taeyong’s battered left side reminds you all the more that lifting the veil is probably better than hoping for the best. If Satan happens to be your dad as well, you’re in huge trouble should he ever find you. Kai is right. Without allies and any knowledge of what you’re dealing with, you’d be lost.

Not to mention that Taeyong and Lucas would be your half brothers. Among probably a thousand other people. You didn’t walk through this door to get instant patchwork family. It would be a whole town of siblings now that you think about it.

If Satan has been even busier than that, which you’re sure of, that could mean an entire nation of people related to you somewhere overseas. Most of them being far from half-breeds. Why? Because Satan still preferred his own kind if he wasn’t completely hammered.

„Sounds like a nice prospect,“ you mumble, arms tightly crossed. Thousands of demons all out for your neck. Joining a notorious club network would certainly hide your identity much better than you hanging out in your small apartment in the middle of nowhere behaving like an average citizen. Glorious. You hate everything.

Which one person, as always, disagrees with.

„He makes it sound more dramatic than it is. Especially in this club you are more secure,“ Taemin softly adds, swiping a blonde strand from his right eye. „You must understand. Kai is in charge of defense. We all have our tasks.“

„Figured as much.“

„We all specialize in something we’re really suited for. Depending on our species, usually,“ Taeyong picks up Taemin’s point, and you begin to understand.

On the balcony, Taemin had even mentioned a gryffin member who worked as the designated club driver. Mister Ten as they called him, who was always out and about for a gazillion tasks. From hell mail to picking up tailored suits to doing the shopping to frequenting hospitals and various butchers for… leftovers.

Taeyong being an older vampire would require very specific blood (type A respectably, whreas you preferred O), and both Lucas and Jongin are in their wolf prime. Kai being slightly older but all the more active by the looks of it. So, just like Baekhyun, Ten seemed to be busy tending to that all the time, nowhere to be seen nor even mentioned. Which was a little… suspicious. 

But the ‚everyone has a task‘ seems to be a big deal. And: Everybody is set up to take their spot very seriously, in their supposed element. Being the VP suits Taemin just like being the butler really suits Taeyong. Even Yukhei, you admit, has the exact leading, head-on personality, although mixed with a lot of tempers, that his position would require. And Kai — his body doesn’t lie. Of course he is in charge of defense.

„We would strive to find out your ideal role in the club, too,“ Taemin says. „Kai thinks about this scenario from a combat perspective, but know that cases like Taeyong’s are extreme ones. We’re used to this but you don’t have that struggle. It’s probably like different worlds at the start but don’t let it phase you.“

You exchange looks, and Taemin gives an empathetic nod. His face is really gentle. It seems trustworthy. Again, you notice how his diplomacy helps you the most right now. It’s a bit cryptic, but it’s the type of classy conduct you were expecting to find in the club. You’re damn glad he’s here. Half-elves simply have a different kind of wisdom.

„I guess,“ you look at Taeyong. „It’s an extreme case because he was part of a clan, right, and I wasn’t.“

„Smart,“ Taemin takes up a porcelain cup from his own table and guides it to his lips. It appears to be some sort of elven elixir inside of it, light blue and sparkling. Maybe that’s the source of his maturity or something. „This is exactly the reason how so much conflict was possible in the first place.“

„Right.“

„You grew up with adoptive parents after your mother’s passing. It was unfortunate but also a hidden feat of luck later on,“ Taemin balances the cup between his elegant fingers. „Nobody from hell could find you. You didn’t show many abnormal traits. Nor were you close to any clans that fostered your abilities or spread the word. But especially the former. You grew up in human ways. Your abilities weren’t worked with.“

„Which we can do for you now if you want to,“ Taeyong clears your table off the empty goblet. Instead, he puts a booklet with a red ribbon around its hard cover just there. „In a more covert way that doesn’t arouse any attention.“

„Can we really do it so secretly?“

He really did read the concern out of your face all over again.

„Yes,“ Taeyong emphasizes, then directs his gaze toward the fireplace. „For any half-demon, half-vampire, this is the place to develop herself. We want to honor both sides and work with it. As good as we can.“

„All other approaches usually fail because they’re one-sided,“ Taemin raises his tea cup indicating towards a thoroughly disgruntled Yukhei. You get what the elf wants to say by that.

Yukhei — another extreme case, perhaps the most severe. From a certain perspective, you can imagine how being antagonized by his father and wolf packs at the same time would motivate Lucas to run a club like this. And what would motivate him to act like this, anyway. 

Leading Club Daemon with a velvet gloves approach? It’d be more dangerous than an iron fist mentality. Although it feels so clear to you, past the nebula of the blood cocktail, that Yukhei completely turned this aggressive style into a hyperbole. But you never know what or whom he’s doing it for.

Even at such a young age. You are convinced he really can’t be anywhere near 30 years of equivalent human age even if his height and way of dressing makes him look so settled. His overall presence on top of that: Whatever training they have to offer, it must be compelling.

At this point, you can only say to yourself — fuck everything. And lords knows the whole club is green of envy. No wonder they’re staring at you like that. You grew up so unbothered, your life is a joke compared to theirs. You were ignorant about way too many things about yourself. Looking at how everyone here embraces their origin, not developing your abilities was a full-on heresy.

„I’m actually considering it,“ you browse through the booklet, directing all attention in the room at you so keenly. Taemin sits at the edge of his seat himself. The paper feels luxurious between your fingers. As a first page, the name of who assembled the booklet’s contents is printed in bold. Mark Lee, conscierge, Club Daemon. 1999 edition.

The text details several time lines, diagrams, and fact lists about vampire-demon halfbreed history, on top of outlining a program featuring traits that a club novice could develop. 

Sprouting and care of demon wings. Usage of blood banks. Defense against crosses and garlic. Cities with high vampire populations. Types of claws. The culture of hell. Demonic Spells. Battle Gowns. Impact of ‚Twilight‘ on public perception of Vampires. Symbolism. Vampiric Reflexes. Christopher Lee Movie Analysis. Avoiding Exorcism. Communication with hell hounds. On Hunting and Forests. Fist-fighting Lucifer. Evolution of Ancient Vampire Dress Codes. Fang safety. Hierarchy of hell. Nutrition. Choosing a castle. Strength development. The list is nearly 200 bullet points long.

And the majority of training, it states, is supervised by Kai. Even the lessons on Vampires and Sexual Relations. Other lessons are conducted by Taeyong and Mark, mapping the more theoretical contents.

Most of the listed training units feature things you never knew you could possibly try let alone perform. Some lessons are even more vital than you thought they would be. Things your apartment life wouldn’t have to offer in the very least. At this point, walking out the door would be a grave mistake for an entire variety of reasons and you trust your instinct. The only thing that makes you bargain is not the elephant — but the big and bulky alpha wolf in the room.

What to do about Yukhei. 

Given the hardliner choice between serum or a complete new existence, it’s a question you’ll have to postpone. Interestingly enough, even though he was lycan through and through, Kai doesn’t bother you nearly as much anymore after the initial shock effect faded.

So what is it about Lucas. Even more things you’ll have to find out, then.

You’re nervous with the booklet in your hands, but you can’t complain. The two cups of blood in your system have given you more courage to look the four of them in the eyes.

„Considering what: Joining for the cause or the heritage?“ Yukhei crosses his arms at the solar plexus. His eyes are so probing on you, but you keep your head straight. You very well know that he’s testing you with this one.

„Both. And I want to know my role, too.“

The president seems to ponder for a bit. Then, he hums. More placid than before, you note. He actually seems satisfied with that answer.

„Then let’s start out,“ Kai rises from his seat alongside Yukhei, and both walk towards the red curtain in big strides. Taeyong sweeps it to the side, revealing a heavy door to another room.

Unlike the rest of the house, or at least the parts you’ve seen so far, this area has no embellished walls or ceilings. Not a spark of luxurious colors, either. No dark materials, no curtains, no dutch paintings, just concrete everywhere. It looks heavily worn, but strangely, doesn’t seem to be a relic like the fireplace room’s wooden tiles. All lighting is purely artificial. It seems part gym, part studio, and all furniture is solid metal, minimal, angular. You’d never expect such a modern, plain grey room to be anywere around the house. It smells like a damn hospital in here.

„Our training grounds,“ Kai paces around the area, clearing it and turning a knob that seems to activate floor heating. „The second safest place in the manor.“

„What’s the safest one, then?“

„We have a bunker downstairs. Flood-proof, radiation-proof.“

And Satan-proof, you don’t have to guess.

„Oh wow.“

„It’s unused so far when it comes to catastropes,“ Yukhei roughly pulls off his tux jacket and hangs it over a steel chair. Given how he stretches his arms, you figure it’s to gain some mobility. Or… to show off his huge build to impose his authority and intimidate you which surely is working. „But we do run it as a makeshift jail.“

„You’re keeping criminals in here?!“

„If you’d call Kai a criminal,“ Yukhei raises a brow.

Now you understand. The bunker is actually not meant for somebody else unless the situation calls for it.

„You’re isolating yourself during full moons.“

„You got it,“ Kai nods. „Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. Two days. I got used to the cold down there. And Yukhei locks himself in here with a pile of meat.“

„I…see.“

So that’s why the concrete walls look so damaged despite not seeming that old. If you look close enough, it’s actually not hard to imagine how there’s massive strength and claws at work here. And there must be plenty of things to desinfect afterwards. Hence the hospital smell. 

But then again, Lucas is not the one who gets put in the bunker downstairs. If that one is the safest room, Kai is in all regards the strongest. Which makes sense given his task here. But something about it makes you shift from one foot to the other. If Kai has to jail himself in an atomic prison, what a fucking beast are you even dealing with?

So this is with who you’ll train with, then.

„Nothing you’ll see anything of,“ Taemin clasps his hands, bringing your mind back to the image of meat piled up all over this room. „The member’s private rooms are way up on the 3rd floor. You’ll be situated there as well, in whatever free room you choose. They are very pleasant suites. The interiors are selected Victorian antiques. It’s not like around here.”

“Thank you, Taemin. That sounds great actually.“

“And— we can always predict their transformations without failure.“

„The suites have steel doors as well,“ Kai adds on. „Easy to lock from the inside. We’ve had centuries to think all of this through.“

„Reassuring…“

„Mind you. In case you feel you get a bad craving, you’re doing the same thing Kai and I do,“ Yukhei re-ties his left shoelace, foot placed on the metal chair like a 6’0 Napoleon. „It’s not like we aren’t the only people who have to protect others from ourselves.“

You don’t like the tone he’s striking and try not to look into his direction. As if you’re some crazed vampire lord with a body count and not a bloody amateur. Whatever cravings he’s talking about, it’s hard to imagine how you’d go absolutely buckwild on a concrete wall whining for blood.

„With half-vampires, well… It can happen,“ Taeyong helps Kai pull off his jacket as well. „But lycans still have to take more prevention if I may add. Simply because their whole being transforms and they’re gaining unexpected strengths from it. Vampires hardly do. Our strength is present always. We naturally learn how to deal with it each day. Lycans have exponentional and way more erratic powers in a shorter period of time.“

Now that puts it into perspective. You exchange a thankful glance with Taeyong. The butler gives a composed smile. Yukhei sees that and huffs. Looks like someone’s been projecting.

„We’re dealing with threats from the outside, better check the ones from the inside,“ Kai says, shrugging. „We can’t change that we’re aggressive species but we can lock a door ten minutes before shit goes down. Early risk detection. That’s gonna be a lot of what you’ll learn in the programme anyways.“

„Pragmatic, I guess,“ you scratch your chin. 

And he’s right. There’s nothing else the members could possibly do. Unleashing someone outside of the manor into the surrounding woods sounds like an overall bad idea. There’s a town somewhat nearby, fifteen minutes down the road. And as a matter of fact, you’ve never heard of suppression pills for half-demons on the market. Each species would need a different concoction: Tailored exactly to them in a long chemical process. Given the variety of Satan’s harem, that equals pure scientific madness.

Yukhei cracks his neck, puts the steel chair back in its spot. „We hope so. What reasons you’ll have to lock your suite for we’re about to find out.“

Three minutes later, you’re face down on the center table of the room, Yukhei pulling off your blazer. Even if you thought it would be much more unceremonious, he seems to do it rather slowly. In the meantime, Taemin rings a little silver bell. The sound is shrill and obnoxiously piercing. Seconds later, the concierge enters the room with a clipboard, introducing himself fully now. 

Oh shit, you almost forgot about the owl guy.

„Mark Lee. Bookkeeper, treasure master. Half-goblin. I also do our finances.“

Joining the club officially unlocks a whole new level of information, does it.

„Bookkeeper, I see?“

„Yes, we do keep a secret chronic.“

„Oh, alright? Spanning for how long?“

„Older than this house. I’ll introduce you to the archive next week, in fact. Welcome to Club Daemon, Miss. I’ll be documenting the findings of this test.“

Then, he turns to put down your phone on another table. First you missed it, now you don’t even care. Mark’s sudden appearance has you all wondering. He’s different now. Maybe his initial silence was very much connected to the exact level of secrecy Taemin has been talking about.

Mark comes across much more high-spirited when he talks, and his face appears youthful once it comes into motion. You give a little ‚mh’ as a rather distracted reply, and he begins a lightning fast scribble on his board, using a golden pen that looks like it’s worth your apartment.

Meanwhile, Kai’s interest seems to gravitate entirely to your shoulder blades. He goes about tapping the skin and muscles surrounding the bone, even pulling down the backside of your tanktop by an inch, causing you to hold your breath. He circles the spine, presses too fingers in at either side. He’s surprisingly subdued, but still quite hands-on. It’s not hard to feel that he has experience with examinations like that. In fact, Kai has the touch of a modern day chiropractor. Whatever you should think about that you don’t know yet.

It makes sense he’s in charge of all things physical. And — that the first thing he’ll do is get your wings to grow and work, wherever they may be inside your back right now. Lord knows what kind of reflex or trigger is needed to make them sprout. Mark, in full haste, keeps on checking off boxes on his board and hums, cocks his head every now and then.

Yukhei only seems to care for another area altogether. He holds up your ponytail to take a closer look at the back of your neck. You glare at him for pulling at your hair more than you thought was needed. Taemin volunteers to take up that task instead, with Yukhei going on scanning the nape. His hands are so large and grip at your shoulders, it feels like you’re some kind of prey being handled. Taeyong has no problems reading the discomfort on your face and clears his throat, prompting Yukhei to slack off at least a little.

„It won’t be anything painful,“ Taemin says. „We’re looking for any birth marks to appear.“

„Birth marks?“

„It shows up when other demons or half-breeds are around. It usually gives away who you’re related to. The color and shape show which rank your demon parent had. Not to worry.“

You chant a little thank you, Taemin inside of yourself as a way to keep yourself together and nod.

„Yukhei and Taeyong have large black markings that resemble a lighting shape if you will,“ Mark now speaks up. „Taeyong’s is so noticeable, he always wears his hair past his shoulders. And Yukhei mostly uses a high white collar.“

How fitting. You didn’t expect anything else if you’re honest.

„So I should cover it as well, right?“

„You shouldn’t tie your hair up this way so it can be seen,“ Kai says. „You can be glad it hasn’t alerted anyone yet.“

So… that’s why Yukhei did not seem to be very happy with your ponytail. You’ve been utterly reckless without even knowing. If there was someone who didn’t think it was a tattoo, you could have caused some major issues. But before you can apologize, the president already shakes his head.

„Well. You can keep that silly hairstyle. Because there’s nothing on that neck where there should be something.“

„What?“

„Not one mark. I’ve pressed every spot, there’s nothing. The birth mark should be visible already anyways since we’re here. Our presence activates it.“

Commotion. Yukhei lets go of your neck, Taeyong begins inspecting the area very hectically instead, joined by Kai. Mark seems to be in the most confusion right now and gnaws on his lips.

„But Baekhyun clearly said she has demon descent!“ Taemin interjects. „He sees such things the best!“

„Baekhyun… Little fish only wants her here because he has an eye on her,“ Yukhei grits his teeth, looking like he’s ready to kick the steel chair into a corner. „Swims around and invites anybody he fancies long as they have some decent fangs.“

„Yukhei!“ Taeyong cuts right back.

„I knew something wasn’t right,” Lucas keeps shaking his head, now seeming even more convinced. “Not a drop of demon blood in her.“

„What are you saying!“

Taeyong’s stoic face is turning livid now. You never thought he could turn this angry.

„Stop kidding yourselves. Get the serum, Taeyong. All that jazz we’ve been doing… I’m fucking tired. I told you it wasn’t my idea to invite her.“

Yukhei curses an entire string of very canine-sounding things under his breath and Taemin tries to hold him by the shoulders. The whole room feels like it’s about to explode. Taeyong doesn’t look like he’s ready to comply in the very least. Instead, the butler starts baring his fangs with a defiant snarl. Mark shouts out loud.

„Don’t—!“

„Are you deaf? Get the serum, bloodsucker! We’re not playing around anymore!“ 

Yukhei begins grabbing Taeyong by the collar. His eyebrows start to become fuller, and his teeth begin to crack, growing rapidly. Taeyong, eyes turning blood-shot, fastens his left hand behind his back. He positions himself to bring forth a powerful fist about to shatter right through Yukhei’s face. Alongside Taemin, you struggle to get up and reach them in an attempt to hold them apart. But before either of them can strike out—

„Wings! Her wings!“

Exclamations from all sides. Everybody turns to Kai. Panicked, he rests his hands just inches over your kidneys. Mark screams, loud enough to make Lucas shift his attention. Meanwhile, Kai gestures everyone back to the table.

„Here! Look here, now!“

Incredulous, Yukhei lets go of Taeyong’s suit and jumps right beside Kai. He pulls up your tank top to expose the lower back completely. Mark drops his board and pen. Yukhei’s hands roam all over the area that Kai mapped out through the fabric. And yes. Now you’re feeling bumps there, too. A painful tear pools at the bottom of your spine. The adrenaline of the situation didn’t make you realize.

„They… they’re unusually low,“ Mark chops his words, eyes wide and crouching behind Yukhei as if petrified.

„That means they’re large,“ Kai puffs out. „Look at the color, too. White, grey. They’re spotted in red. I’ve never seen anything similar. As if they’re bloodied.“

You can’t believe your ears, wind on the table. „Spotted wings?! What’s that about?“

„It’ll be even more visible when they’re spread. They’ve been hiding really fucking well down there,“ Kai says. „It’s very unlike any wings of ours. And I can’t get them out, all we did was locate them now.“

Great. You have special snowflake wings.

„Really?“ you’re pretty much staring like Mark yourself now. Kai affirms.

„It’ll take a trigger event that sprouts them. I don’t know what yet. Too early to say.“

„But what does the color mean, then?“

„Our wings are all some kind of… well, auburn. Neither Satan’s nor Mammon’s children have colorings like this. Only Taemin’s are blue.“

„But that’s regular for elves,“ Taemin adds.

A churning knot of panic seems to grow inside your gut. The fact that Yukhei keeps on groping about your back is starting to tug at your nerves as the cherry on top.

„Why, why are they like that? What is this?“

„Y/N,“ Mark inhales sharply. „Please calm down, we only—“

„And why are you touching me like I’m some kind of science object? Who am I?“ you shout at Kai and Lucas, prompting Taemin to slowly pull away both their wrists from the table. In this moment, you could jump either of them.

„I’ve, I’ve only heard of one case with such wings,“ Mark begins, but ends up choking up a cry. He’s shaking all over, takes his glasses off. „If you… turn her around…“

Yukhei doesn’t have to be told twice.

„So her mark is elsewhere? Isn’t it? She’s from a different family altogether?“

Mark nods.

Lucas swiftly flips you on your back. You can’t even blink and you’re already watching the ceiling with five faces right up close above you.  

„Let Taeyong do this,“ Taemin begins to urge Yukhei. „Lucas, you shouldn’t touch her now.“

That you need Taemin’s words for Lucas to hold himself back is starting to bother you. Him just grabbing you by the hips and turning you around felt more than strange. You imagine how in his mind, you’re probably a sizzling steak in a pan that he wants crispy on both sides and you don’t like it. One thing’s for sure: You’re not here for being werewolf dinner. What the hell.

What’s been on your mind even more is that Kai is not even half as annoying despite being so full of protein himself. With his chiropractor hands all over you on top of that. Is it that they’re from different families? Wouldn’t you dislike Taeyong as well then? He’s from the exact same corner of hell, after all. What exactly makes Lucas so pushy to you keeps on preoccupying everything you thought of until now as a bottom line. It’s not like you can ask him directly why he behaves like an asshole.

Three minutes pass. Lucas has stepped back from the table, watching like a hawk. A bit more composed, Mark picks up his pen and clipboard. He still can’t concentrate on writing. Taeyong gently probes each of your legs and ankles, even pulls your shoes and socks off to look at the underside of your feet. Finding nothing, he moves on to survey your wrists by smoothing over them, sending Yukhei an evil eye for grinding his teeth. Looks like someone doesn’t like others touching your soft spots.

Kai watches reactionless, seemingly deliberating. He’s in a different headspace, you can tell. Taemin helps Mark with ticking off boxes on the paper. Taeyong turns your jaw to either direction and slightly upwards to inspect the underside. He glides two fingers over your temples, and also asks you to open your mouth. He counts through your teeth with his digit and moves your upper lip to look at your fangs. Taemin emits a large ‚wow‘ when he does, and Yukhei growls out loud. Kai looks visibly interested, although he still seems to piece something together in his head.

„Extremely durable and angular,“ Taeyong says. „I’ve never seen this shape.”

„Me neither,“ Kai props up his palms on the edge of the table.

„Nobody in any clan I knew had fangs like that. Not even the elders. They’re so sharp… it must be inconvenient often,“ Taeyong requests a measuring tape from Mark who pulls it out of his left suit pocket.

„It is. Shreds every toothbrush,“ you mumble.

Taeyong glides his finger all across your gums above both canines, pressing on the root of each tooth. It seems to get a nerve inside your jaw going, and again your breath becomes shallow. He measures, dictates the unintelligble results to Mark. For some reason, you find whatever he’s doing strangely pleasant. Meanwhile, Lucas has been prowling around the table with a heavy gait. You adapt Taeyong’s method of sending him eye daggers.

„Can you put your story-telling on halt? This isn’t some vampire underground bar at Friday 12 PM,“ Yukhei grunts back at you and Taeyong. „Just say whatever the fuck this means. Shouldn’t you search for the birth mark?“

„Can’t quite tell now,“ Taeyong, sounding rather absent-minded, goes on counting through your teeth each. He’s feeling about like it’s a box of jewelry. 

Beside being an obvious difference to what your mostly human high school mates sported — if you could call them that, high school makes everyone inhumane — you never thought your fangs were anything out of the norm. There weren’t many people you could compare them to in your small home town in the first place. You only saw vampires on late night TV at best.

There’s a strange tingle that spreads across your body now. It’s unusual having someone so comfortable with your teeth.

Your first and last boyfriend headed right for the door when it came to kissing. As if stung by a hornet almost, a complete change of mind. Meeting you at a festival he thought the idea of dating a vampire was „pretty sexy!“. He paraded you around at his birthday party two weeks later, you thinking he was actually proud of you rather than only himself.

You later realized that he just wanted to appear like the bravest guy in the world. To gather his guy friends complimenting him on the ‚spicy catch you got there!“. And maybe, you suspected, also making the female guests compete for him with some one-upmanship towards you. If he needed you to attach any value to himself, what value did he have himself to begin with? It still feels like a bad decision because you said yes to someone like him.

He liked the exterior, but doing the actual dating with all that it entails he had seemingly underestimated. It’s not like you expected him to use any tongue or try a blowjob. Why would you?  Doing that would always be a stupid idea for both. Did he think you would purposely hurt him? Or did he just leech off everything he could get until he had to be responsible and deal with limits? Crazy vamp is what he last called you, and you never heard from him again. No texts, nothing. Does your pussy have monster teeth, too? Just go back to your cave or wherever you came from.

„If you forgive me saying so. They really are pretty,“ Taemin chimes in, then urging Mark to note something down. You take a moment to realize he means your teeth. Mark seems to have a lot of trouble snapping out of his daze at first himself, but begins to immerse himself in sketching and documenting after a while, ruffling his hair like a mad scientist. Lucas regularly gazes over his shoulder and you can tell he’s one grumpy wolf.

„We can show you how to keep them in shape and do a proper bite on someone who agrees on it. But you probably even tried something along the lines, right,“ Taeyong says, and Kai nods, probably wanting to say the same. It seems to be nothing out of the ordinary going by their expressions. But the question makes you more nervous than you actually want to.

„Honestly, I… didn’t bite anyone so far,“ you shake your head, unable to meet the eyes of anyone at the table. You hate the feeling of shame that kicks in almost by itself.

„Come on folks, that’s the first thing you smell about her,“ Yukhei boldly announces from his wandering spot around the dumbbells. 

Way to go. You realize how comments like that are exactly why you’re so nervous. He’s already acting holier-than-thou again.

„I only ordered cheap blood online,“ you try to muster a shrug. Acting indifferent is at least helping you to say literally anything. „All legal but artificial.“

And disgusting, but that’s another story.

„Not hard to tell either,“ Yukhei laughs out. „Takes a blood virgin to down a whole liter of the real deal in five minutes. You were staring at that cup like you’ve gone mad. The difference to cheap blood is quite intense, isn’t it? Wanna see your face if you get a willing neck for the first time. Priceless.“

Something coils up inside of you. Eye daggers aren’t enough at this point, are they.

„Don’t get rude, you dog… Do you like spying on others or what?“

„Come on, come,“ Taemin steps in, ushers Yukhei towards the steel chair.  He leans in, speaking in a low tone to the president. „Little more tact and privacy with a novice. Your dad would thoroughly enjoy this.“

„Would enjoy what?“

„Us creating discord in the club without him having to do crook a single hoof.“

You’re starting to think that ‚Vice President‘ means nothing but ‚group counsellor‘. Fine by you, but Yukhei has been rubbing you the wrong way from the very start. That he tried to attack Taeyong and called him names isn’t something you’ll just ignore. You’re growing increasingly more tense. That there doesn’t appear to be a way to take matters into your own hands is even more frustrating. 

„I think… there’s a reason you’ve been living a more isolated life than most vampires,“ Kai interrupts your thought as well as the ongoing banter, trying to strike a more rational tone. He returned from his thought process, ruffling the long hair at the nape of his neck.

„Okay—?“

„See. Most half-breeds with the same father will find each other. Almost automatically. Look at Taeyong and Lucas. And all vampires will get picked up by clans, their scouts. But in your case… I think you have been purposely avoided. By both clans and demons.“

„What does that mean now?“

„My theory is, I… I suspect. Your father,“ Mark looks up from his clipboard, „is someone who hasn’t exactly been Satan’s ally.“

„My dad is — some kind of, Lucifer’s enemy?“

„Maybe. It’s likely. So, the clans would use to trust your father lot.“

„Does that make any sense?“ you frown at Mark, who hastily continues. You still don’t get why that has something to do with how you grew up completely uninvolved in clan affairs.

„His affinity for vampires was much higher on top of that, unlike Satan.“

„Get to the point!“ Lucas taps his feet on the concrete.

„I, I think that’s why you were born,” Mark carries on, pushing up his glasses. “He got together with a vampire. But he has been mingling with a lot of arch angels as of recently as well. Your father, I mean.“

„Okay? But how would you know?“

„The reasoning is this,“ Mark reads from the clipboard. It seems like he has been working on some kind of theory. „The clans don’t like the archangel’s power nor their politics. And the angels don’t really like us as a club either. Simply because we’re half-demons and have offsprings of Satan among us. I know that’s, that’s really complicated, so—“

Whoever Mark means in all of this word spill, your father is evidently a huge trainwreck already. Who’s against who now? It’s all so hard to understand.

„That all doesn’t sound very good,“ you grumble. „Are you sure your theory holds true, Mark?“

„It all sounds like he’s pulling that out of thin air,“ Lucas says. „Angels and whatnot. That’s some random bullshit.“

The conscierge looks rather overwhelmed with your question and can’t quite get a word out at first. Taemin encourages him with with a little supportive eyebrow raise.

„What I know is. By the signs your… body has. We have to keep you safe here and build your strengths at all cost. Because something’s going on,“ Mark eventually continues, earning strong approval from Kai.

Then, Mark addresses the president, much more fragile in his voice, but still secure in his judgement. „Lucas. If we give her the serum, Satan could someday get her if he musters up the courage and the helpers. Which I think he will. That won’t end well in any scenario. The club is in danger. Do you understand? Putting her out there is a bad idea and she doesn’t want it either. She wants to be a member and that’s instinctively the right thing at this point. Baekhyun happened to spot her now out of all times with good reason, I think.“

Lucas seems to ponder back and forth now. He props down on the steel chair with crossed legs, palms in the back of his neck. He looks genuinely concerned for the first time. You find yourself starting to nod along to Mark in the meantime. You like when he speaks like this. 

„Thank God you’re here then, Y/N,“ Taeyong says. „It’s important you get to know more about yourself. It creates a lot of chaos otherwise. For you the very most, unfortunately. We have to admit that joining the club probably makes it worse. But we can’t know what would have happened if you never found your way here.“

„Yeah, I guess.“

„Your heritage is probably much more… controversial I would say. I hope you don’t take this to heart too much,” he continues. “We’ll still have to find out more. But it’s something else we’re not accustomed to so excuse any crudities.“

You can imagine. If your dad is yet another person having beef with Satan, and there’s even people from heaven involved, things are bound to get icky.

„So, where is my birth mark, then?“, you exhale, voice growing with an acute panic. „Do you know my father’s name or not now? 

“Um...“ Mark stares at his own feet.

“Is all of this a fraud? And what can be more controversial than having Lucifer as your dad?“

Taeyong and Mark are looking at each other far too awkwardly not for you to notice. Kai crosses his arms and sighs out.

„Come on, you two are suspecting something. Tell us.“

All attention is now on Taeyong and Mark who are a puddle of sweating embarrassment.

„We have to… Well…“

You feel like a patient about to receive the most embarrassing surgery. Yukhei roams around the table murmuring and fuming.

„What is it now? What are you avoiding?“

„…pull up the shirt to see the birth symbol,“ Mark spouts in one go. „It’s located in the middle of the chest.“

So here’s the reason for all that tiptoeing and stuttering.

„And I thought you’d need my period blood to paint an ancestry sigil or something,“ you roll your eyes right at Mark who looks like he’s sinking into the ground right before you.

„That’s actually what we wanted to do next,“ Yukhei licks his fangs. 

Taeyong, as if lightning struck him, immediately kicks him in the back of the knees. Everyone turns their heads. Judging by Yukhei’s awkward, reaching step forward and no signs of retaliation, Taeyong has some serious leg strength going despite being so lithe. You never thought you’d see his butlery composure begin to crumble either.

„Stop making weird jokes. You’re a dog just like she said.“

Taeyong’s tone is so cutting, Mark breathes out as if he was the one getting kicked.

„Technically not wrong.“

„You got what I wanted to say, Lucas.“

„Can’t hear you mumbling through your stupid old fangs, brother. I’m fucking proud of being a dog.“

Yukhei does an even more obnoxious werewolf-brand wink that makes even Kai cringe a little. Taemin looks like he’s slowly dying on the inside. 

While they’re all continuing to throw out retorts, you cut the debate short by pulling up your tank top. Must be the courage from getting your teeth praised.

Today’s braless day, but anyways.

Mark immediately starts crouching again, and Kai’s mouth drops wide open. Taeyong collapses right on the floor. Taemin buries his face in his hands.

„It… It is as dramatic as Kai said!“

„What is it now? Can’t you guys handle some breasts or what.“

You look down on yourself. And— soon freeze as you see the large round marking right on your solar plexus. Red as blood and crudely outlined.

„What the fuck is that!“

You get goosebumps. The mark has never been visible before. Whatever work Kai did on your back pressing all sorts of points, it must have activated not only your wings, but also this particular spotting. It appears to be shaped like a medal emblem, depicting a snake and a centaur or whatever creature in bold zigzag shapes.

„The sign of King!“ Mark shudders through his tears. The temperature in the room seems to drop, and the scent of jasmine smells like rotten coal. The sign glows red and large on your chest, and not even Yukhei is looking at your breasts now.

„We’re so fucked, man!“ Kai pulls at his hair. „What are we gonna do!“

„Wait! Wait, what is this!“ you pull at Mark’s suit, urging him to speak on. He can’t properly gather himself the very least.

“I can’t say—”

“Tell me, Mark! What is this sign!“

„Be, Before Lucifer… became the prince of the underworld. It was like this.“

„Like what?“

„There was a King who ruled the 9th circle of hell. For over a million years.“

„Who is that guy? He’s my dad?“

„Yes. He never left. That was, until Satan overthrew him after being cast from heaven. The King purposely decided not to come back and expand his influence elsewhere. He’s now a free-walking spawn of hell. The guy who’s technically… actually the boss. Satan is just tolerated but The King has the actual powers. You can guess… look at how large the mark is.“

„I am the King’s daughter?“

„You are,“ Mark contines. „The daughter of King Belial.“

He can hardly pronounce the name without everybody flinching.

„He’s the original guy in charge,“ Taemin bends to help pick up Taeyong, who’s breaking out in a cold sweat. Whatever is glowing on your chest, it’s something out of the Club’s league and that thought alone drives an equal sweat on your face. Belial, you’ve only heard that name sparsely, somewhere, and you knew hell had kings, but you didn’t know it was a very real tale.

„Satan was expelled from heaven for his pride,“ Kai picks up Mark’s point, but his voice is just as shaky. „So he took on hell and drove out your father after a decade-long war. And, plenty of tricks, dark magic. The King first settled in a radical vampire clan who thought he’d be the ultimate weapon to get back at Satan. And Belial thought he’d had an army now, too. But the arch angels also took interest in the King for that same reason. They wanted to fight Satan, too.“

„Didn’t Mark mention the angels earlier? What’s going on with them?“

„They don’t like vampires, so they lured the King away from the clan to only collaborate only with them.“

„So there’s a triangle going on!“

„Belial hasn’t really retaliated or done anything since then, but we’re thinking that he’s plotting something big together with God,“ Kai continues. „Against anything demonic that they set their eyes on. Not just Satan.“

Your head is spinning. Now God’s involved in this shitshow, too. It just gets worse with every new thing you find out.

„The foe of my enemy is my friend. That type of idiot logic,“ Yukhei says. „And Belial was stupid enough to fuck a trash vampire in the process. And you… are the result that we have to deal with now.“

„As if I can help it! You shut your mouth!“ you jerk up to lash out at Yukhei, but Kai steps in between you. He’s as fast as he is strong, and an impenetrable wall you can run up against all you want. And Kai isn’t foolish, either. He grabs you by the shoulders with extended arms to keep your fangs as far away from him as possible. All Yukhei has to do is step back.

„Stupid— because that got your mom killed,“ Kai says, teeth gritted, but sounding much more sensible than his stance suggests. „You gotta understand. Satan wants to eradicate or silence anyone associated with Belial. To avoid a revenge and losing his position!“

„Then you’re right that he’s a prick…“

„My damn words,“ Yukhei shrugs behind Kai, adjusts his tie. „Now put your tits back and sign Mark’s form, you’re part of Club Daemon without further notice anyways.“

„Wha—“

„Now listen closely madam,“ Yukhei burges past Kai to build himself up above you.

„I’m not gonna say this a second time,“ he throws the blazer at you, and you awkwardly catch it. Kai steps out of the way to let Yukhei step even closer to you. The grit in his eyes is too commanding, untouchable. Mark backs off against a wall, and even Taemin gives up on stopping Lucas. Only Taeyong lingers close behind the president, surveying his every move.

„Since Satan is an illegal worm on the throne and the King prefers to sip ambrosia with God, you happen to be the only legitimate heir. The literal, official ruler of hell. And as we saw, giving you the serum would cause even more trouble. You might even get used against us or yourself. You get me? We have enough trouble and craziness with all this! Do you understand that? From now on: You’re doing exactly as I say.“

„Why are you the one to declare all that now? Yu—“

„No objections. Training starts today.“

————————

„Your wings are so nice,“ Baekhyun smiles, turning twice in his bath tub. The water gently rises, bringing some foam to the corners. If you squint a bit, it actually sparkles. You’re feeling laid-back with the scent of fragrance sticks and candles lingering in the bathroom now. Tangerine, a bit of lemon. A pocket-sized music box strums away on the sink. The melody is foreign to you, but it feels nostalgic and welcoming. There are almost a dozen shell-shaped metal soap holders all around and pointy quartz clusters frame the two mirrors on either side of the room, creating an endless loop of reflections. Yours excluded, which always seems to amuse Ten even if he’s already used to it from Taeyong by now.

A snugly dim lightbulb screwed into a large pink lamp shade right above you spreads some warmth, as does a fluffy carpet underneath you. The vapors of the room become visible as little ascending particles in the light and you wonder how hot the bath water must be. Unlike the chairs in the main hall, the one you currently sit down on cross-legged is meant for comfort solely. A pink and poufy 50s relic, put there specifically for you since it’s Friday.

„Ah…Baekhyun. I forgot you see them for the first time,“ you settle, while he turns again. You find yourself laughing at how cutely Baekhyun spins. That this is the way mermen express their excitement and adoration you learned only last week.

„And, your fangs have grown so big!“ His cheeks are bright and giddy, and his tail glistens from all the soap he tossed around in the water for almost half an hour now.

„I’m on my 50th day of training now.“

„Ooh, that’s so impressive! You’re doing great for sure!“

„I don’t know if I do. But there are some results at least. Kai made me fight Yukhei with bare hands and they came out,“ you wriggle your either wing, and make their tops touch the ceiling. Ever so slightly, you don’t want to break anything around here. Baekhyun’s little bathroom paradise is too carefully assembled to pull any stunts in here, and it’s your Friday night safe haven for long talks and even watching movies on Mark’s tablet. Now, it doesn’t take a lot of stretching to do so in the first place. At this point, wearing your wings out this way is starting to feel natural, even if the way that they shift your balance is still new. They are red-white and stringy, feathery, and spotted just like Kai had predicted.

„He was in his full form, right? You’re really brave you did this.“

„It’s a strange thing sometimes. It’s like I followed an impulse.“ you say, shrugging a little. „I guess — Blame it on instincts.“

You really hoped he would buy that dodge, but it’s a futile try.

„Hey, I mean it. I’m proud of you. Really.“

You push a few hair strands out of your eyes. He’s not going to let you off the hook until you admit it, or maybe it’s only you so fearing to say that, and making it so awkward that he notices.

You don’t want to bare yourself but also don’t want to leave him in the dark about how much his words have been building you up over the last few weeks. It’s almost been two months since you first saw Baekhyun on Mark’s video call, discussing where to relocate the club chronicles after a shelf randomly collapsed. Even a fraction of him on screen made you hold your breath.

Maybe it’s because a whole lot of your ancestors were — although surely snobby and even aristocratic — so bite-first-talk-later and rather reserved folk staying in the shadows that accepting or never doubting flattery is hard for a vampire of your generation. And maybe it’s time you muster up something else than either extreme end of that aristocracy or that terrible shyness.

„Thanks for your compliment,“ you stare at the tips of your fingers that clamp around your knees. „Matters a lot, okay.“

Baekhyun props up his head on the edge of the tub in response and looks at you all blushed. He’s playing with the blue crystal penchant around his neck, and his light purple hair falls into his face in wet little waves until he shakes it. The strands are so thin and plush, they prop up all dry again so fast, as if by magic (which it likely is). His cheeks are so glowing when they’re rosy, you notice every time you see him, but today even more so. To the point where, and you feel it in your gut, your confidence becomes so shaky all over again.

„But don’t praise me too much,“ you say. „It’s only doing what I’m supposed to do and what I’m made up of, I think. It wasn’t that hard.“

„Not as hard as defense against crosses and garlic, isn’t it?“

„Damn right, that was something ese,“ you nod. „But there are much bigger problems.“

„Is there something that preoccupies you as of lately?“

Baekhyun blinks a few times with a falling smile, and you contract in your chair.

„I feel like… It’s so hard to say.“

„I won’t hold anything against you, okay. I just hate seeing you preoccupied night til dawn. That’s not right.“

„It’s…Yukhei is treating me like some kind of tool. Just fostering me because that means a hybrid demon sits on the throne of hell. It feels too much sometimes. Like I have to dance to the beat of his track all the time, you know.“

„I’m sorry. Lucas can be really zealous. I hope he’s not demanding too much from you.“

„Or… training me like a machine. I’m really not a dog’s toy. I don’t think that’s what made my join all this. I don’t have as many problems with my heritage as with the way he takes so much control. It’s… one-sided. And I feel like I should be above that already and just do my thing anyway.“

Baekhyun’s expression sinks even more now, but there’s also something single-minded in it.

„As long as you truly wish to take that position in the 9th circle, you can do as you please,“ he says. „Look at how strong you are. I don’t even have to tell you that. As I know him, Yukhei wants to protect his kind. Including you, that’s why he trains you so hard and wants you to have influence. I know it’s an ironic thing. That you have to be his subordinate now to be his superior in the future. He sees himself as a founding father, so he coaches us. His strict ways are not for everybody.“

„I guess,“ you shrug. It doesn’t sound illogical to you. Having a half-breed in charge of hell would raise the status and safety of Club Daemon immensely, and Yukhei does behave like the club is his child. „I just don’t like it when he uses his position too much without caring about how I want to go about it. I know I’m new to this, but I still have preferences. And the training is for my sake, he’s the one who emphasizes that the most but it feels like it only serves him. Telling him that is like, like— talking against a fucking wall, I don’t know.“

„That doesn’t sound good. I think that you inspired a lot of respect in him. Lucas is afraid of many things.“

„I feel that.“

All too often. When he trains you. At dinner. During any hand-to-hand practice. And especially: On Fridays, where he is tense all day.

„That the pack order is so wired into him doesn’t help. There’s always only superior or subordinate to him, he doesn’t know anything else. The social order of vampires is less defined than that.“

The roles, the hierarchies. You often find Mark talking about it.

„I try to understand it but our ways are so different. I don’t know what it is. Yukhei should know that vampires aren’t responsive to this alpha thing the very best. And I don’t think anyone in Belial’s family for that matter.“

You’ve seriously been wondering how Lucas was donning his big bad wolf attitude. That he was intimidated behind all that jazz would come as no surprise to you. But this type of explanation would be too… simple. Too easy, for all those intricacies, the weirdness of his behavior.

„If you look at it from what he does rather than what he says. He spends a lot of time developing your skills and puts all of his energy into the project,“ Baekhyun’s gaze drops from yours now. „To be honest… I’m jealous of him.“

Now that makes you swallow hard. It implies way too much for you to process right now.

„I don’t, I don’t think he likes me,“ you vehemently shake your head. „Or at least not in a way that feels good to me. And that’s what counts. He’s making me grapple with hell hound holograms and box with Kai until dawn under his supervision. I’d rather be here and discuss with you. It’s really valuable.“

„Ah… thank you.“

Now that you’re on a roll, saying it is easier.

„I’m really glad you were the one who scouted me. I really wish I could be here more often. And, you put a lot of effort into this. You think it’s just talking but it’s important for me.“

The last part you say with a much more subdued tone, but it doesn’t lose its meaning to Baekhyun. That he looks flustered is an understatement. He wriggles his shiny tail and it actually changes its color to light pink, matching his flush.

„You know, it was more of a coincidence. I was counting shells at the beach, I saw you coming out of a pharmacy at the quay. I haven’t told you that, have I?“

Back in May. A very breezy, sunny late afternoon.

„Taemin said something along those lines, but not in detail, no.“

„You had these huge sunglasses on. And so much sun screen. And a big hat. You came out with six packs of iron supplements and cranberry juice in a transparent plastic bag. I couldn’t quite believe it.“

„You really saw it that clearly?“

„Merman eyes can see even in murky water. Kai has trained me to read people at any distance on land.“

„And how did you see that I’m part demon?“

„You had a crop top on.“

What?

„I mean. Come on. That half-vampires like crop tops is clear to me. Taeyong is wearing them all the time. But don’t other people do that as well? Isnt’t that a little—“

Baekhyun starts giggling.

„The sun was hitting your back while you were opening the lock of your bicycle. I could see the wings folded underneath your skin.“

„Oh man,“ you puff out, reclining in your seat. And you thought he was going for a reach. „Okay, I get it. I hope nobody else saw that.“

„It can easily look like some kind of tattoo,“ Baekhyun shrugs. „At least someone who has no idea about demons wouldn’t have realized anything. And it was only visible for a split second since you weren’t standing upright.“

„Okay… that’s good I guess? Just me walking around in a crop top at the bay. Nothing suspicious going on.“

You’re ready to chastize yourself for being so careless, but then again. Arguably, you don’t have eyes on the back of your head. And on top of that, it took someone as trained as Baekhyun to discover your sleeping wings showing in a matter of one blink or two.

„It’s likely that your wings only started growing this very year. I really need you to realize. This didn’t happen in twenty years. I was never as fascinated in my entire life, I—“

And by saying that, Baekhyun’s pupils become heart-shaped, and pretty much everything else about him turns bright red. The hair, the tail, the lips.

Oh.

Looks like you’re starting to understand why Baekhyun didn’t just casually mention you to Yukhei to send out an invitation, bar half-breeds being a rare occurance and highly sought for by the club.

„I called Taemin with my shell phone right away so he could inform the club,“ Baekhyun stutters on. „I’m sorry we’ve been observing you that way. Many half-breeds don’t know that they are.“

„You didn’t do it to hurt me,“ you shake your head, gather yourself, and take Baekhyun’s hands in yours. They’re so pretty and slippery. „You don’t have to apologize. It’s been a lucky coincidence.“

He saw you in the right moment and it decided everything.

„I’d not be here without you, that was very needed,“ you add. „Lost and found, you know. I gotta be the one to say thank you.“

Baekhyun firmly squeezes your hands and looks you deeply in the eyes, even more so than before.

„We’re the ones who have to say that,“ he says. „We didn’t have many good prospects before you. Maybe we can have a better chance being half-breeds in the future. Don’t think of yourself as Yukhei’s chess piece. That takes away all your importance. I think he’s trying to tell you that, too.“

„Maybe. But just know that if he’s so invested in me the way you say, I couldn’t reciprocate it.“

You look down, retreat your hands. Baekhyun reaches out of the tub to cup your chin upward very gently.

„This whole werewolf-vampire feud thing,“ he starts in a low tone. „You don’t have to buy into it. It’s not good for our club’s unity.“

You cast down your eyes. „I know.“

„If we fall apart, that makes us very vulnerable to the outside. It’s important that you stick together, and… he really likes you.“

„Baekhyun—“

„You have an easier time with Kai, right. If you approach Yukhei the same way, that… could be beneficial to your bonding.“

„Bonding?“

You don’t like where this is going. All of your alarm bells are going off right now. There’s cold sweat starting to stick to your shirt at the back of your spine.

„It’s kind of an unspoken codex,“ Baekhyun sounds much more understated now, his eyes become droopy. „If there is a female half-demon with claims to the 9th circle, a mate from the guild may accompany her. But it has to be someone from the upper rank.“

„What!“

„Yukhei is the highest in our hierarchy... He might become your consort. He said to me he’d be ready to do it.“

„Yukhei as my mate? How do I know nothing about that!“

The shock in your voice makes Baekhyun rolls up in the bathtub and his tail turns into a lifeless green. You’ve never seen him so small.

„Because… because he can’t say he likes you.“

„I beg your pardon?“

„It’s all bound to happen because of his status, and yours, and— As I said, it’s an unspoken law. It doesn’t really matter if he confesses or not.“

„Are you kidding me now?“ you jump off your chair. Your wings knock over a ceramic vase in the bathroom cupboard right above the sink. It comes down splintering. „Why on earth does Yukhei push me around like some political… genetics… preservation tool!“

„It, it is not the intention—“

„I don’t want to mate with Yukhei! Not because he’s the president, not because I need some fitting husband apparently, not because he spends a lot of time with me, not because of his money or because he cares a lot about preserving half-breeds, and especially not just because he likes me.“

„You— You don’t?“

Baekhyun’s eyes are wider than when Mark first saw your spotted wings, well-knowing he was dealing with a more delicate subject of the chronicles. But this was something that would turn the annals of the club upside down entirely.

„We’re not compatible. Not in the least,“ you frown. „Did you assume I did?“

„Of, of course! I mean in your position, who else would come to your mind? It’s such a given from both of your sides, I didn’t… even think about it. Please, I didn’t want to offend you!“

You settle on your chair again, fold in your wings. Cross your legs, lean back. An overbearing feeling of depletion makes your whole body ache.

„You know. That’s the thing with tradition. Nobody thinks about what they actually want. They just follow a program to satisfy some stupid custom. To soothe their ego, their morals, I don’t know what. But that leads them in the opposite of being satisfied. Because it’s against their real wishes. Doing away with quite a few traditions without causing much damage would be entirely possible, wouldn’t it.“

„I think traditions do serve someone,“ Baekhyun shrugs. „Many people.“

„In this case, only one person. Hint: tall lycan man who wants to fuck me. And take me as a wife which I didn’t even know until now. And how would I if he’s yelling at me about putting away my tits as if I’m some chunk of trash.“

Baekhyun stutters, decoiling not one inch from his position.

„Didn’t he do that in front of others?“

„Yeah, but why are you asking?“

You can’t help but put some sharpness into that reply. All that mating monkey business is reeking of bullshit.

„Lycans are, well you know it. Really possessive. He wants you for himself, he… he’s affected by your body. Everyone can see that. So, everyone automatically thought he’d just, sooner or later make a move on you, you know. You’ll be exclusive to him.“

„You really think that Yukhei is territorial over my fucking tits.“

„On the outside he was acting grumpy that it was a half-vampire coming to us out of all races. But he sent out Taemin with the club invitation letter in a matter of a day. The fastest he ever wanted to get someone to join was when I scouted Ten as our chauffeur. Ten had all the qualifications and he’s half-harpy, they get on with lycans very well, but Yukhei was deliberating for two weeks.“

You shake your head.

„He sent it out because the club direly needs extra manpower, a new element, whatever, that’s why. He literally said so.“

„Yukhei ordered to send out the invitation only when I told him that you’re a good-looking… woman.“

You’re gasping for air. Can this get any worse? This has got to be a bad joke. It sounds like Yukhei literally wants to own you.

„Is he— that desperate?“

„He’d not mate with any full-lycan or half-human half-lycan, or humans altogether,“ Baekhyun shakes his head. „And how could he, he’s the president and protector of the only demon half-breeds club there is. Anything else would be out of character.“

„So me being in need of a mate because of all this heir thing… serves him well and he’s already planned all of it and treats it as a given in the club. All behind my back.“

You could rip out all your hair at this point. You curse him. This dirty, sneaky, cunning wolf guy.

„From his perspective, it makes sense. Nobody else in his shoes would do it differently. He didn’t mate at all yet. We respect that he will take that only chance because he has the last say, you saw that. If a lycan runs a club, we go by lycan ways.“

All you can do is plant your face on the edge of the bath tub and puff out a deflated noise.

„So I’m the only fuckmeat in sight. To get rid off his virginity.“

Oh God, no. This has got to be a terrible dream, even the club’s chronicles pre-1689 aren’t as tragic.

„Yukhei’s instincts are going crazy since he reached maturity. Kai already mated earlier in his life and takes Beta status. I guess that’s why you get along a little better. But with Yukhei… he’s so depraved, he’s even ready to mate with a half-vampire.“

„I saw how hostile he can get with Taeyong…“

It still pains you. That Yukhei would go at him with full fangs and claws even if Taeyong is so severely marred was a punch in the gut. You don’t doubt Taeyong’s strength, and you saw he was ready to defend himself properly and resolutely. But it showed a lot of true colors and you thought about it for many nights.

„Exactly. That he said he’d be your consort tells you how much he needs somebody. He’s even ready to bury the rivalry and also contests anybody of your race. Taeyong is competition to him.“

„Jealous possessive alpha looking for a trophy,“ you bury your face deeper in the enamel of the tub edge. „Baekhyun. I fucking swear. You’re giving me even more reasons not to get with him. He’s even dragging Taeyong into all of this.“ Taeyong, who made you feel so at home and comfortable with being half-vampire. Who was very open with you and had exactly the integrity and dedication and utter class a club member needed to have. A confident, quiet strength and rolemodelship that you could always look up to.

„So talk about unity,“ you grit on. „And I’m only tolerated to Yukhei. If I’d be a guy, he would’ve sent me an invitation after like 5 years, wouldn’t he? Yukhei cares a lot less about halfbreeds than he pretends. How would I get with this guy if he’s such a mess. Never ever.“  

„You actually wouldn’t?“

„Come on! If that’s not clear at this point. No degree of Yukhei wanting me means I want him. Man, what the—! He’s planning my life as if it’s his factory. He’s making chaos out of everything.“

Hell, Yukhei must be more than insecure if he reached that level of entitlement. And you only get to hear it from Baekhyun? He’s not just insecure, but also a coward. Just how much he’s living in his own bubble is hard to fathom.

„But, it’d be an honor for you to be with the president. Is there a reason you don’t like him back?“

„Baekhyun. I don’t give a fuck about his arranged marriage thing. He has no respect. I want someone else.“

„I mean, I… You’re free to choose from the assembly. You’re the Queen of Hell. You can do whatever you want.“

„Apparently not.“

You cock not one, but two brows right at him. Baekhyun seems entirely confused. It’s so strange to you how he doesn’t seem to catch on in the very least. Yukhei really must have threatened the other club members. Nor does he seem to take your role seriously in the very least.

„Is there someone you want to mate with, then?“

„First time someone ever asked.“

You straighten your posture and tap your fingers on your knees. Admittedly, you’ve probably picked that one up from Kai.

„The guild accepts any of your wishes. It’s just a recommendation or a tradition that—“

„Yeah yeah. A dumbass expectation. Disguised as some… guideline. And everyone’s parroting it just because Yukhei is the boss. I don’t like that, okay. I’m not on board with his personal agenda. Because it’s shitty. Full stop. I’ll shove his bonding schtick up his ass until it comes out of his ears.“

„Ah, I, I see. I get it now.“

„Understand, Baekhyun. Rules have to be adapted to the benefit of those they concern. Are we agreeing on that?“

„That’s only logical!“

„So you get that I have someone in mind that I want to have a consort. That person is not Lucas. You see that the benefit would apply here, that, you know, I mate with that other person instead.“

„Sure! Do you need any help with selecting somebody? Wouldn’t Kai be a perfect match? You’re both so strong! Or Taeyong. You have great chemistry! Mark is very impressed by you, too! Haven’t you seen how shy he is?“

You want to sink into the ground on the spot. It just goes on and on. Man, you need a 500-year coffin nap with extra dust and spider webs and no garlic in the radius of ten kilometers.

„Baekhyun, you, you are… God damn…“

You can’t say it. You can’t.

„Always glad to help,“ a bright smile lights up his face once again. His tail turns back to a very familiar turquoise.

And just when he decoils himself to his full size—

It happens.

„Ah! What was that!“

Baekhyun begins to jerk up and winds. You panic. The surface of the bath water colors with red almost right away. He grabs his tail in pain. You dive either hand into the tub to pull up his tail.

„It’s a splinter! It fell inside the tub!“

„From the vase?!“

„Yes, it’s, it’s…“

„Are you okay Y/N? You look different!“

He seems more shocked about that than the fact that he just got pierced.

„It’s…stuck here. I’ll pull this— out and… and. Very carefully, and…“

Your hands work on their own. There’s nothing in your mind that has to direct them. The piece of ceramic is easy to remove from his scales, nor is the cut too severe at all. It’s not even two fingers long. But he’s bleeding. He’s bleeding. It’s unbearable. You mindlessly cast the splinter into the sink and look at your hands, and the water, and his tail.

„Are you really okay? It really doesn’t hurt a lot!“

„Baekhyun,“ you slide forward from your seat and linger at the edge of the tub, facing him. „I can’t take this shit anymore. Please.“

„Oh my god. Your eyes are going red! Should I call for Taeyong? You’re looking really sick!“

„Don’t you understand. How, how are you not seeing it,“ you clutch at the bath curtain, dizzied, and it’s like you’re seeing double. Baekhyun tries to keep you upright in his arms that wrap tightly around you. But your head has lost all its stability, tipping way forward. You’re face-to-face, forehead-to-forehead with him now, a frantic, salivating mess. Your lips feel so swollen and pulsing, it’s hard to keep them pressed together at all.

„I’m… I’m not sick. I’m not. Hush— Listen to me now, Baekhyun. I don’t want anyone else’s blood. You’re the one I wanna mate with. I want yours. And not just a little bit of it.“

Open mouths. You gape at him, he stares right back. You’re already expecting him to call for Kai to drag you into the serum room. So much about Club Daemon.

To your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he begins to blink like he just heard the most incredulous news, pulling away from the embrace. He looks at you in earnesty.

„Why didn’t you just say that right away?“

Baekhyun turns the brightest shade of pink all over yet. „I never thought you’d like me back this way.“

„Really?“

„Of course…“

„God,“ you laugh, „oh God.“

„And who said you can’t drink all you want from me? That’s literally what I was gonna offer—“

You are already shoulder deep leaning into the water with your arms grabbing hold of his tail. Some of the water even gets into your nose and it’s terribly soapy from Baekyun’s shampoo, but saturated with enough blood to knock a tidal wave of adrenaline right through your system.

This is the freshest and warmest you’ve ever had it. It’s feeling like a shark in the water. The lithe red clouds wavering through the tub loosely clinging to your face and lips makes you go weak in the legs. It tastes sweet like actual candy. And it’s so, so… familiar. Being surrounded by all that cherry pink water is better than a coffin nap and no garlic pizza combined. This is way too good. You can be glad your air is running out and the wound begins to close behind scales getting back into order.

„Wow! You can hold your breath for a long time,“ Baekhyun gasps when you surface.

„I didn’t,“ you cough, and take two minutes to gather yourself.  But not exactly because of that much water getting inside of you. Rather, the blood is showing its very effect already. „The wound should be fine, um,“ is all you can say, but Baekhyun only smiles in reply.

„Oh? You don’t look full in the very least.“ he swipes his hands over his wet neck and pats it. „Try it here!“

Oh please no, not the patting and the slapping. It brings all the best veins out, oh fucking no. But he continues to do just that. At this rate—

„Can’t guarantee I’m not getting really horny.“

„Huh? If you’re not I’d be worried. Didn’t you say you want to mate with me?“

„Well… yes.“

„I’m just really honored, I need a little moment.“

„You don’t have a problem with me just… vandalizing your neck?“

„Isn’t that what it’s for? It doesn’t suck itself.“

Baekhyun, with the most innocent little expression, continues just as before kneading into the sides of his neck. His long… tan, glistening piece of art neck. You probably look like a starving wet poodle preying for a bone, and then there’s him in the tub, sparkling like a water god with his beautiful cherry hair and droopy brown eyes.

With every smack on the side of his neck, your pants squarely decide to get a little more soaked. Maybe because it sounds like you’re already fucking. Maybe because his neck is bursting with everything a girl needs. It doesn’t suck itself, huh. And your canines are in best shape because you floss them twice a day just like Taeyong said. Uh oh.

„I’m so sorry I… I think I’ll tear you up.“ Why does it have to be so long and throbbing. His smell is turning your brain inside out and back again. „God Baekhyun, you’re tormenting me.“

„Hey, not fair! That’s your job,“ he’s pouting again, and probably begins to realize he’s been doing more prep than most porn stars nowadays because the kneading stops. Without much further ado, Baekhyun squarely beckons you to climb into the tub.

„Are you really ready—“

„Don’t worry, Taemin is great at cleaning the tiles. He actually loves doing that.“

„I want to make this enjoyable to you, Baekhyun, so…“

„I don’t know, you don’t have to please me or anything,“ he shakes his head. „That you like me is already overwhelming enough.“

„A bite is serious business. I still want you to enjoy it like I do.“

„If you want that. Just, just do it harder,“ Baekhyun wriggles himself up, pinker than ever. „If we’re doing it unprotected… I want this properly.“

Finished off with a shy smile. This guy is making you go times more nuts than the first raw blood you had in that chalice. You start to understand what Mark really meant by recently mentioning how Baekhyun’s parents gave him „A certain inclination“. A well nymph and Asmodeus, demon of lust, combining? That could not possibly create anything less than somebody so enticing.

„Baekhyun, always tell me if I should stop, I, I try to rein myself in, okay. You’re too delicious…“

„My veins stop swelling, just bite already,“ he sways his tail, keeps on rubbing into in throat again with his flat palm. „Just don’t worry. You’d have a hard time draining me. You saw my body just heals itself fast.“

„Yeah. Merman thing. Mark said that.“

„You can also fuck me if you want to.“

„Baekhyun, you really don’t have to offer yourself just because my body is going crazy.“

„But I’d really enjoy it. How aroused are you?“

„In all honesty… Bram Stoker novels level horny.“

„I’m not gonna leave you like that.“

And something in his tone tells you that Baekhyun has it all figured out.

As much as your wobbly legs permit it, you get into the tub more or less elegantly. You already want to apologize for mounting him that way, but Baekhyun squarely sits you down on his crotch with his hands on your waist. That his wrist and knuckle veins have gotten the word does not go unmissed by your tunnel vision. All those pulsing underarm serpentines… leading your gaze upwards, and more, and more. Up, up, until you cannot rip your gaze from his puffy little throat. Baekhyun lets out a content little hum and lifts his chin. You really get the full damn view.

„Sorry teeth, I’ll devirginize you. No more blood oranges,“ you babble to yourself, and you can tell your brain just switched off all inhibition. You never thought you’d be slurring your words about what types of emergency fleshlights you use, all in a bath tub with a merman. „About time I pop my cherry boy.“

„Exactly right,“ Baekhyun proudly huffs, and leans back. With his Adam’s apple bulging out his throat even more, you lose all trains of thought and just grab him by either side of his head. You sink your teeth in as far as the power in your jaw can drive them, and going by how his pulse is beating inside your ears, you drilled them in pretty damn hard. Oh fuck. Beginner’s mistake. A huge gush comes out to spritz against the back of your own throat, and you almost pass out from the incredibleness of the taste.

It’s too much at once. You’re hanging by a mere thread. All your body does is follow whatever its instinct dictates. Grabbing Baekhyun by his hair is all you can keep track of, shoving your teeth right up his throat again all dissipates in a blur because your entire mouth is dripping full with him. He’s moaning so loud right now, his neck vibrates along.

„Yes…!“

You don’t want to be a weakling. And, get yourself to swallow for the first time — but then. regret it right away. His blood melting down your esophagus is like a liquid marriage proposal on the Eiffel tower. You don’t know where the noise comes from, but the birds are singing. Once it’s down your stomach and pooling there, you’re already high as fuck. Grinding erraticly all over Baekhyun’s more than steel hard boner that parts upward through the scales of his crotch. He’s really giving you all the best things.

You bury your whole face in his neck. No more neatness. All you do is let your tongue loose and drag your mouth all over his face, and his chin, and his lips, and his jaw, and all of his neck. Every angle, every side, every nook and cranny until your mouth is bursting full with all of his sweet-tasting sweat and pinkish blood that has thinned out with the water dripping from his gills. If it wasn’t diluted, you’d probably forget your own name.

You melt your teeth into his pulsing skin. A vibrant image opens before your inner eye. You’re getting visions of the beach and you as seen through Baekhyun’s eyes. And then— Baekhyun from an outside perspective, swirling through the water the moment after he saw you walk at the quay for the first time. Singing so beautifully, your ears are ringing and you never want to hear anything else.

His blood is all over your lips and chest, your training print shirt. You admit you’re tempted not to ever wash that thing even if Taemin politely asks you to or Yukhei calls it crazy. You want it to be as sullied as a white shirt can possibly get. What must be your eleventh bite in a row gives you a particularly big shot right to the tongue. It’s so much, Baekhyun’s blood starts running out of your nose, only to get back onto your lips that suck up all that candy right away all over again.

Being all drenched in Baekhyun’s nicely bloodied wonder shampoo water and your own horny leaking shit at the same time, your pussy is double wet and way, way too ready to get stuffed up with all that merman dick. You never thought that he would be any larger than your thumb, but you’re mistaken.

„No wonder Yukhei has been keeping you outside the club so often.“

„You can have it as often as you want, eight times a day, I’ll manage to be there, don’t worry.“

It’s so stiff and glides into you so easily, you groan out loud and loose a whole portion of blood from all that open mouth. It sprinkles over Baekhyun’s little nose and lips, and makes his way down to his belly. The scent is turning your brain upside down. You find yourself hooked on his nose, sucking and licking it with your pussy reaching the meaty base of what’s all the way inside you now. All the precum he’s leaking into you is taking its time, but comes down to cream you up when he starts moving. Really smudgy thrusts from below, several big fat fillings from above that you can have your fun gargling on the back of your tongue. Baekhyun knows what makes you happy. You squeeze every bit your can get out of his throat and plunge your teeth inside of him far enough to feel his vocal chords vibrating during his moans. You don’t wanna damage those. So you decide to switch things around a little and slip off his cock. It’s grown a lot inside of you and peaks out the water still brimming. The whole tub gets a taste of soapy foam mixed with Baekhyuns semen and lord knows how much delicious red cherry juice that you’ve been milking out of him. Oh god, you feel like cumming. You turn Baekhyun underneath you so the back of his head comes to face you, and you bow down to violently bury and seesaw your teeth in his nape like a lion shaking a little prey animal. His little helpless moans are so melodic and out of this world, you do notice you forgot your own name. Well, he can tell you afterwards so, no problem. For now, you made him completely yours. You don’t miss how Baekhyun didn’t reach down to get himself a hand but has grown even harder.

Going by how much he’s been begging you to do your carnage on him, and you’re tempted to ask him, you know for a fact Baekhyun would probably fanboy like mad and ooze his cum all over the place if you broke his neck altogether, but you decide that’s probably way too edgy for now. And too much, hello. His body can heal anything in a matter of five minutes, doesn’t mean you have to challenge it with a clean snap during the first time. That’s a schtick for the later fucks, maybe a birthday. Just when you find that what you’re doing with his little nape all between your jaws is way too sick for a novice, a string of tiny „please, please, please!“ noises spurs you to sink in deeper and even work your tongue just like it’s a french kiss.

„Oh woah, ah! Do it, do it more!“ His pleasure screames and demands for roughing him up leave no second for a pause. At this point, you’re just digging in and he’s all the way close to going off like a bomb. Taemin doesn’t just have to clean the tiles alone, there’s gonna be sperm everywhere. Probably even as far as the door, and that one’s all opposite to the bath tub and four meters away.

Now that you’re so snugly penetrating with your fangs pierced in around his spine from either side, you notice how Baekhyun has successfully corrupted you into a sadistic freak. The more blood seeps into your mouth, the lewder your slurping gets, and the tub water has long gone from pink to very crimson like it’s the type of apples Taeyong loves to test his fangs on pretty much daily just for practice. You swallow again, and this time, a wave of Baekhyun’s sexual fantasies crashes down on you.

Looks like since you’re closer to his central nervous system, you’re tapping his entire stream of thoughts. However this works, it’s giving your pussy severe missing-cock-disease. Drinking and swallowing repeatedly makes the visions even more vivid. The images are so vast and animated, you can hardly keep up. His face, buried between your thighs. His tongue, dragged all over your legs. You riding his tail like it’s thighs. A big gush of semen between your breasts. You slobbering blood all over his cock and making good use of its protruding veins. Images of you cumming and screaming his name. Baekhyun screaming even louder because he can. Baekhyun sucking his fingers and you licking his wrists clean. Baekhyun cumming inside you and everything bursting right out because holy shit, that’s a lot.

You want his dick and properly connect to his lips for the first time now, so you ease your teeth out of his nape, much to his protesting. You cave in and give him another bite, and make it brutal so he begins squeaking and gasping that he’ll cum. Now that you have him there, you can venture a second try and turn him around. Because you’re afraid of blowing up the second you sit on his cock again, so you start with his lips.

Kissing Baekhyun is all you expected and even more than that. Even if you’re so saturated with his blood that your taste buds are on fire, you can still clearly taste how sweet he is. Everything about him is so delicious and he’s so cute. All that pleasant taste and the gentleness of his tongue has you riding up and down his cock in less than a minute. Busy like a New York high rise elevator. Gentleman he is, Baekhyun retorting with his own thrusts feels nothing short of whipped cream consistency fucked into you with a headspin-inducing mega girth. Where he mustered that one from, only Neptune knows.

Since the entire water is ripe with his blood, that can’t go without pumping some of it into you. You’ve never found yourself horny all over your period even if the scent does make you tingle, but now, somebody else’s blood squeezed into you? Your legs feel like doing somersaults. You’re probably asking for too much, but you hope your walls soak it all up, his pre-cum included. Hell, if all that mixture shoots up in your womb, you’d probably be on a permanent high for one week. Who would have thought. This giggly little merman has turned you mad and lawless.

It doesn’t take for very long that Baekhyun’s tongue has been wrecking a havoc of pleasure between your fangs and has started bleeding after deliberately giving himself a small little prick with them, you want to get bursting full with his cum now, you can’t wait any longer. You lost your breath so it takes a few seconds until you can verbalize it, but when you do, Baekhyun doesn’t take even half a minute to have you pussy bubbling with a particularly scented load of deliciously fertile semen.

It’s such a huge amount, you have to hold onto his upper arms. Baekhyun breathes like he’s curently swimming a marathon, and has his eyes closed to concentrate on giving you the best to the best. What makes you moan is just how wildly his cock is throbbing and pumping against your cervix, that girl has never seen an avalanche of white stuff like this, she’s so lucky she gets to see this up close. Baekhyun has sunken so deep into his orgasm, he’s starting to mumble some kinds of magic words. Which seem to be directed at keeping his dick hard and keeping the cum flowing just like that.

„Shit, I want that in my mouth,“ you promptly decide, and pull your all-loaded pussy off, causing leakage all over the water. You turn to prop his cock between your lips, and Baekhyun makes it no secret that he won’t hesitate sucking his creampie right out of you. So while you’re busy sliding your tongue up and down all that veiny shaft, Baekhyun glides his nose and chin between your slippery pussy lips. The stimulation of his tongue has you twitching and stuffing his cock even deeper until your mouth is nothing but filled except a few remaining spots.

His cum is all fizzy in your mouth, it’s the most addictive thing. You decide that all that vanilla ice cream needs a juicy strawberry sauce to top it off. You do exactly what Baekhyun’s steamy fantasies displayed to you. That you lock your horny fangs deep inside of Baekhyun’s cock and squeeze him out by the liter for sperm and cherry milk is already having your eye lids flutter because you’re that stoned. Not to mention that you will smell like candy to the lycans and certainly also Taeyong for at least a whole month.

You’re the farmer, he’s the maple tree, and Baekhyun’s blood the runny, sugary syrup. The mix with his semen tastes like you bite right into a large fresh lemon and melon popsicle. and swallowing comes easy once you got into the rhythm of his continuous little bursts. Your stomach is telling you oh babe, I adore you for this. It’s stuffing full a) with the one thing is needs and b) the other thing it loves. All while Baekhyun’s bloody tongue is having a party on your clit and you can’t help but heavily rock your pussy all slapping up against his face.

The friction is unbearable, it makes you sopping wet on top of already being shot up with a ton of cream. Which now faithfully drops right into Baekhyun’s awaiting mouth and his nostrils along the way. He just snorts it up, gathers it on his tongue, then swallows it down like it’s a mild cold. The noise is so disgusting, it’s so sexy. You didn’t know mermen were this hardcore. You bet your fangs Yukhei can’t do that.

Baekhyun keeps on slurping on your creampie like it’s a desert pudding, and puckers his brazen lips to suck your clit between giving it little kisses and licks. The point where you forgot not just your name but your hometown and birth day is already passed, with Baekhyun indulging your pussy like that, you even forgot about planet earth being a thing.  His petite „Aw pretty“ and „So tasty“ noises have you clenching up and wildy deepthroating whatever impossible length of his dick is still left.

It’s oozing out too much to deal with at this point, so you just let it flow into the bath water. Your mouth being so slobbery, Baekhyun’s cock pulsing in and out of it causes a wet, hollow noise. It’s strangely satisfying and dirty to hear, you just love it. The blood seeping into your mouth makes you spiral even deeper and resorting to drift off into a wonderworld again, blowing big pink cum bubbles while you’re dreaming of Baekhyun in a groom suit out of nowhere.

Swimming at the edge of a pool, he’s stroking your hair and admiring your skin that seems so completely without any veins. Cut to Baekhyun standing in the kitchen with an apron making pancakes, drizzled with what can’t possibly just normal strawberry sauce. He perfectly balances himself on his tail to stand upright, and you’re wearing a Christmas sweater signed by Christopher Lee and Bela Lugosi.

Image three, Baekhyun massaging your feet with his pretty hands while you watch Nosferatu Reloaded on television. He whispers sweet nothings but they mean everything to you. Image four, a big house with a nice water system inside, and on top of that, a really shapely coffin that smells so dusty and snugly by just looking at it, you’re enamored with no return. Oh my god, there’s a moth plague in that house, too, and the garden grows nightshade!

Swallowing the remaining semen, thick and marshmallow-y as it so savoringly is, you shift back to your senses. Shit, that was a ride. You have a hard time letting go of his cock, but he’s not sustaining it with a spell at this point. Rather, it closes back behind his scales. Probably regenerating, you sucked and performated the shit out of it. Preoccupied, Baekhyun is still busier than ever making your pussy his personal oozing face grave, he’s particularly enjoying the digging part with the tongue. You promise to unearth him once he’s zombiefied, can’t let the poor tiny merguy just drown in there.

To think that he could do all the things you saw makes you furiously thrust back and hear his face smack into you. All of the cum he pumped into you is slathered all over his mouth and makes it all the easier to get all the clit stimulation you want from his bottom lip in particular. That he catches a hang of it and moves right along doesn’t help with your arousal. Your entire lower body is so heated and bustling, any south-Texan bat cave is a joke compared to that.

You hardly catch a direct glimpse of what’s going on, but from the reflection in the tiles you can see that Baekhyun’s hair has changed its color to how it naturally grew according to Mark’s seemingly random chronicle recital on Monday. Baekhyun only ever does it when he’s really serious about something and vulnerable enough. You can tell be picked up the pace and makes sure not one lick will miss.

With that level of determination, Baekhyun is sure to earn your moans and shaky thighs after a mere minute or two. You think that because he’s part demon, his tongue is… a bit longer and pointier and stronger than the average merman’s. It’s simply how the genes tend to mix and your clit very well feels that. The way he’s driving in the tip of the tongue in rapid sequences that resemble Ten’s piano suites, you’re tipped over the edge hard enough to grab at his tail not to slip from the massive tremble that rocks you.

Your orgasm rolls your eyes back to places even ghouls could dream of, and the amount of pleasure is so strong that your hearing and vision sets out for a solid ten seconds. You just scream and moan and scream again, and Baekhyun’s face gets one massive cum shower all over again. He’s not shy to move his mouth and head around like a madman, so your cum ends up being stuck in his hair altogether. Through even more frantic sucking and kissing, he seeks to prolong your high for another fifteen seconds of blissed out grinding against his face. You drank so much blood, you

By now, your face must look so blown up with all that cum and Baekhyun marked up so relentlessly, even if his bite marks have closed by now, Kai must think you switched roles going by your scents.

„Really sorry for my big cock.“

„Your blood… does it cause random hallucinations or something of that sort, can you direct it in any way?“

„It causes prophetic visions in some cases, if you experience it clearly as an image it will come true. Did you see something?“

„Um. Lots of things. Let’s say I… liked what I saw.“

„Actually, don’t tell me. I like being surprised.“

„Doesn’t it take 50 years until the egg fertilizes?“

„47, 48 is usual. Mermen cum is really slow but it’ll get there.“

„Nice. Isn’t the firstborn always a girl?“

„Yep.“

„We’ll name her after the song that’s always on the human radio, what is it again. Janine?“

„Jolene I’m thinking. I think it was that kind of song.“

„Yeah, I like that. And in the meanwhile we have some time, do we.“

„We can just go on like that. What are you thinking?“

„Shit, shit. I’ll suck you dry, Baekhyun, you don’t even know.“

„My blood regenerates the fastest among all half-species. Shouldn’t be a problem.“

„And what will we do about Yukhei’s mating drive?“

„Don’t worry. He’ll smell it.“

You pull the bathtub plug with a heavy heart and begin washing Baekhyun down. The blood doesn’t seem to stick to him very easily, which is as unsurprising as you not getting it off your own body. Even with his whatever pricey merguy body scrub thingy thing that’s normally used to keep gills and scales in shape. Resorting to staying bloodied for the day is nothing you’ll particularly hate, though.

Ten minutes later, you find a very unsettled Yukhei standing at the window of your designated club office, not able to meet your eyes for more than a second. In that expensive black tux, and you… in your bathing robe with blood all over your hair, and just a pair of Baekhyun’s sparkling light blue and silver ‚i ♡ dolphins‘ socks he borrowed you. He can’t wear them anyway, but they were so cute that he ordered them online.

Very much naked underneath all that, and water running down your legs in drops, alongside— something that does not feel like water. You already plan to hop right back into the shower and do the rest of the cleaning. The sex is great, but vampire hygiene is a pain in the ass sometimes. The scent must be killing him. You don’t even have to sit down for the word spill to start.

„Y/N.“

„I told you I don’t like you sneaking in here.“

„After working out. And, you know my senses are always heightened after this…“

„What is it now, hellboy. Just cut to the chase.“

„Please let me talk for a minute. I came walking by in the northern corridor,“ he starts out low once again. „You talked about your wings sprouting and you were being open with him. So—“

„You listened to us!“

He keeps his lips tight, not granting any reply.

„Piece of shit, you! You’re an all-round asshole.“

The water contained in a silver jug on the office table goes right over Yukhei’s head. He doesn’t react, lets you poor it all over him stoically. You hope it’s particularly cold. Since the water is silver-infused, it stings him, but he takes it.

„I can’t switch my nose and ears off, even at such a distance. It… it just reeks, alright. I just heard what was going on without intending. The talk, the— I didn’t know what it would develop into.“

„From start to finish. Am I right?,“ you dig your nails into your palms. „And you didn’t just walk off like you fucking should. So stop blaming your ears or what topics we started out with or whatever! You talk about mating behind my back, you eavesdrop, you invade my office just like this. Do you think that’s gonna make me marry you on the spot?“

All the magical afterglow — ruined. You cast the jug into a random corner and prop down at your desk. Yukhei wipes the wet bangs out of his face and turns from the window to face you now.

„I’ll stop with all this. Okay. I don’t want to treat you like a crusade machine against my dad or just to satisfy me. I’m sorry if I’m like you said. I’m just a stupid voyeur. I really didn’t want to.“

Yeah. Of course.

„If I spied on you? You’d be kicking me out in a hearbeat,“ you cross your arms and leave them in deadlock. „And what, you’ll stop what?“

„Training you for your position and fighting dad’s army.“

„Eh.“

„I know very well that’s Kai’s job and mine.“

„No shit, Yukhei.“

„And that we should defend more and not just plan the attack. You don’t enjoy the training as much as the normal recruit. You said you’d rather be talking with Baekhyun and that you chose him as a mate.“

„You’ll change your program?“

„A lycan will respect a no. We’re determined but not a creep. And my nose works perfectly fine.“

„What?“

„I’ll be realistic, I don’t think I could satisfy you like him.“

Now that sounds very different from all he’s ever said. You turn your chair toward him and stare Yukhei down.

„I’m listening.“

„I’m not stupid, okay.“

„Inaccurate, but go on.“

„You’d… bite me once and either I bleed out if I control myself or go wolf when I don’t. That’s lose-lose.“

„So you got that all of a sudden,“ you murmur. Yukhei just keeps on talking. It’s almost a prepared monologue.

„I’m a wolf, okay. I only get it when I smell it.“

„That’s some weird shit but fair enough, Mark says that too.“

„You smell like you had almost nine liters in one go. The whole fucking mansion feels like a butchery just opened. How many times did you bite him, fifty, sixty?“

„As if I’m counting. Do you count down when you drink water? You have it easy, you’re normal when you’re not in the moonlight. I’m vampire all the time.“

„What I try to say is. I don’t boast that much regenerating ability even if I wish I had.“

„And you realize that only now.“

„I came here to be honest. I gravely underestimated Baekhyun. You bit his nape and he really enjoyed it.“

„Well thanks for the information. About my private business…“

Yukhei’s senses must be really sharp to discern all of this. He might have stood in the bathroom in person. And if he knows it, Kai does tenfold if he was anywhere near the house. His senses are time-tested and four times as trained.

„I know that doing a bite like that is a big deal in half-breed… couples.“

„You’d find that inacceptable for me to do on you, wouldn’t you.“

Silence again. You tap your feet. Yukhei ends up nodding.

„To the extrent of how you reacted when I grabbed you by the hair. We’re not much different. Trying to make someone ours. Call me possessive but you’re also territorial. You didn’t just bite his neck tonight.“

„You understand why I said we’re not compatible. then.“

Yukhei remains silent for a while after that.

„The tension between our kinds has a reason.“

„No way. Never thought of that. Totally groundbreaking news.“

„We’d probably kill each other when we fuck. Simply because of what we naturally do. We’re suited for other species. Baekhyun matches you very well with his abilities. I admit that even if it hurts my pride.“

„One man’s trash another man’s pleasure.“

„You’re not trash. You know you’re my MVP here. And Baekhyun is going to please you well himself. He’s not as selfish as I am. He’s 290 years old, he’s very experienced.“

„Your instincts are really dying for a mate, don’t they.“

„Just like you deflate to a literal zombie when you’re not drinking, I can’t go without my pack hierarchy being complete. You go stupid when you sense blood, I go stupid when my senses aren’t challenged and I have to suppress my form. It’s that easy.“

„Now tell me something I don’t know.“

You comb your fingers through your hair. It’s kind of comforting right now. Yukhei comes to sit at your desk now himself, opposite to you.

„I should have left you to your own devices when you picked your spot at the fire place already.“

„What do you mean?“

„We left you seven empty places, right.“

„So that was not a coincidence.“

„We spiked each cup with a blood probe of each member. Enough to emenate a scent, but small enough not to have you figure out which cup belongs to whom. Especially not in a room with so many people was it possible to tell that apart so it worked.“

And of course they put up flowers to further confuse you. It was all planned.

„Did you… you…“

„It was a test. I made it so that if was covert enough and fair to everyone.“

„Fair? What the hell did you do with me!“

„Find out whose blood you like the very most. It was my idea. I wanted to see if I have a chance with you or not.“

„That’s insidious.“

„You picked Baekhyun’s probe right away. And you even drank a second cup. That should’ve answered my question by that point.“

That’s why the blood in the cup was so strangely shimmery. You knew that was familiar when you slept with Baekhyun, but couldn’t connect the dots entirely because there was so much soap in the water.

„And you still kept on talking about mating with me?“

„I didn’t know about your heritage before you came to us.“

„So?“

„That gave me a second chance that I hoped you would reconsider. Because it’s tradition tha—“

You smack Yukhei right across the face with your right backhand.

„Never say that word again.“

„And you said you’re here to tell the truth anyway. It’s a shallow excuse to get with me.“

„I’m not denying that, Y/N.“

„It’s been clear to you who I like since our first words. You’re acting like you can bend me to your wishes. You tested me and knew I wasn’t into you. Why?“

„It’s like when you couldn’t take your eyes off your cup. We’re not far apart with our instincts.

„I never said that’s a lie, Yukhei.“

„You can’t expect me not to get the hots if you’re lying there on the table without your top on. And I already controlled myself. I did my best, alright.“

This man is infuriating. You wish you had more silver water to splash him with.

„Taemin was right, Taeyong should’ve done the examination. Touching me fucked with your virgin head. You’re just hunting some one-sided dream looking for some omega girl that fits into your ideology thing.“

„Well you’re right.“

„Unfortunate.“

„But at the same time at least acknowledge that I realized we wouldn’t fit together. I changed my mind about that prospect okay, I’m trying.“

„That you’d make the worst blood bank ever is already clear.“

„I really wouldn’t.“

„Just know that the next time you’re trying to own me or do your wolf stalking shit. Or try to mess with Baekhyun. I’ll be skinning your hairy back with Taeyong’s 17th-century silver dagger and use you as a mud boots doormat.“

„I’ll control my senses as good as I can.“

„Leave away the last part of the sentence.“

„I’ll control my senses.“

„Ma’am.“

„I’ll control my senses, Ma’am.“

„You’re one desperate little shit. Club president and you need to be trained like a rowdy dog. How old are you again?“

„Last time I checked, 21.“

„Not surprised Kai still calls you a puppy and Ten thinks you’re a giant baby.“

„I say, found your own club if you can’t handle it.“

„That would put it back to square one. The only problem is you being horny for the wrong person, the rest are only consequences.“

„As if I can control what my nose tells me. And you know that the very best.“

„You’re still mad your own test backfired,“ you remember the cups put up in the fireplace room.

„Is it wrong wishing you would’ve chosen my blood?“

„Yes, after I clearly made my pick.“

„Then that’s that.“

„That’s that.“

„So what are we gonna do?“

„You cut your wolfy shit, that’s all. It’s creepy. And don’t annoy Taeyong either. You got me? Just stay in your own lane.“

„If I can.“

„Are you the president or are you not?“

„Fair enough.“

Taeyong rings a bell, and you gather for some tea under the backyard Wisteria. Shrimps are served, and Taeyong even bothered to prepare a minestrone that’s wonderfully dark red. Lucas savagely chews on raw chicken wings, Ten relaxes in a hammock, Mark writes, Taemin knits, and Baekhyun plays in the nearby pool, watching and listening and chatting, upbeat as always.

Kai arrives the very last in his post-jog showering robe, but greets you the very loudest in front of everyone.

„Hey, hey! I heard you waterboarded yourself to get some soapy red juice!“

Some confusion at his word choice, some giggles.

„So that’s been making the roun—“

„Amazing! That’s my girl,“ Kai burst out and pats you on the back so passionately, it feels like a freight train hits you.

„O—okay?“

„That greed is all I ever wanted to bring out in training! Where was that determination when we peeled garlic? I tried every method in the book to get you to that point!“

Awkward silence among the members. Then, some shrugs. Mark seems to be the only one who doesn’t get it. Figures, half-goblins don’t have hyper-developed senses. Thank God, his innocent soul. The club chronicles would be filled with details of you doing all sorts of things in a bath tub because Mark never leaves out anything unless he’s currently dropping a pen out of nervousness. Which doesn’t happen anymore.

„Kai, um… I still don’t think you understand what really motivates a vampire,“ Taeyong scratches his head, with you well-aware that he can smell merman blood across the entire house without even trying himself.

„So, what is it, then?“ Kai puffs himself up, arms crossed. „I’m the fucking trainer of how many species again? I should know best!“

It doesn’t take two seconds for a heated discussion to break out. The Venerable Pyramid of Essential Vampire Needs — which author defined it the most accurately? Which peer-reviewed vampire journals are trustworthy? Which interviewed populace is the most reflective of all vampirekind? Serbia, Romania, Turkey, Russia, Greece, overseas?

Everybody wants to weigh in: Taeyong and Mark at the forefront, with Kai and Lucas saying the exact opposite of what they expertly claim just because. Ten starts trolling them with made-up facts („a vampire’s #1 need is premium cellar dust!“), Taemin unsuccessfully tries to calm everybody down with a theory that considers all perspectives, and the tea gets colder and colder.

In the meantime, you squat down at the pool and muse over Baekhyun’s hair in the wind. You twirl it and tell him he’s gorgeous. He whispers just how good you smell. Why debate about essential vampire needs when it’s all right before your eyes.

Thinking about it. It was all about which relationship was mutual. That’s what the decision had been all about, and yes, it had been crystal clear from the very start. Lucas desperately wanted you, but it was one-sided. Mark was flustered by you, but didn’t make a move, nor did you have feelings for him. Taeyong you loved, but his age and mentor status were incompatible with turning it into a relationship. You understood him, but it was motivated by an admiration — there was a pedestal, which again made it one-sided. Ten was a mystery, it wasn’t clear on either part, and leaving each other guessing was no good sign instead of going about your ways. Kai was a compelling man, but had his piece of cake and aspired to different things. Baekhyun — he loves you and you love him.

A powerful engine revvs in the nearby garage, then, the motor stops. Onto the Wisteria jogs Ten with a huge bag of groceries.

„Hello, hello!“

Everybody greets him and picks their favorite snack from his bag. He really thought of everything. Yukhei and Jongin get a huge pile of meat from the car trunk’s cooling box. As a crowning finale, Ten presents you with the latest newpaper. The front page splayed out on the Wisteria’s main table causes everyone to steer and gasp.

SHOCKING!

SATAN’S HEAVENLY RETURN

Ruling hell too stressful after all?

„Rumor has it the King finally got bored of chatting with God and kicked out Satan from the 9th circle without much further ado.“

„No way!“ you toss and turn the newspaper. Five whopping pages are filled with cover story details.

„So dear horned guy went back to where he came from,“ Ten shrugs, then points at the snapshots all over the newspaper. „I mean look at it. This is all just a big ole jealousy drama.“

Who knows God talked some sense into Lucifer.

„I know that dad was getting envious about the King associating with the arch angels,“ Yukhei says. You start to get why. Satan had the privileges of being an archangel for who knows how long until he reached puberty and rebelled or whatever.

„Doesn’t that mean dad has the throne back now?“ you ask.

„Yup,“ Ten turns to page three, where @king_beli’s instagram feed is filled with selfies of the 9th circle, posing with Sisyphus, and throwing peace signs in a sulphurous-looking throne hall. 666,000 likes after just 6 hours. If that’s not a good sign.

You keep on debating how exactly Satan got kicked out so effortlessly until Taeyong rolls in a little swirly metal wagon after the tea is finished. On top of it: An almost ancient relic that Alexander Graham Bell probably built himself.

„Sir, the Hell Telephone might be a good idea right now.“

„Your turn Y/N,“ Yukhei declines, ushering Taeyong to bring the wagon to your side of the table. You dial and wait roughly half a minute.

„Sorry, I was partying,“ a voice creaks through the old speaker. „How can I help? Isn’t this Club Daemon speaking? Is it who I think it is?“

„Hey dad.“

„It is!“

„Hello. You’ve heard about me, then.“

„Yup yup! That you’re Yukhei’s personal dog trainer is what Kai wrote me on Whatsapp! Did you really pour silver water on him? That’s funny as hell!“

„Oh God.“

„I say that a lot these days as well, man. Sorry, we have some music blasting here by the way!“

„Hey dad, what actually happened with God and Satan?“

„Ah, long ass story. Satan chickened out recently, hell is one hell of a job you know. New job opportunity for me. But you gotta take it easy and have fun.“

„I can tell.“

A spitfire verse of what sounds like Megan Thee Stallion is currently pumping through the telephone. Ten grooves right along in his hammock, smiling way too ominously. You can tell he knows every bar by heart. He’s been listening to the human radio way too much during his errants.

„I’m only stressed because the furniture is terrible.“

„The what?“

„In the years of my absence, horned geezer got a little too creative with the design, you know. I’m more of a romantic.“

„So… you just moved in there just because.“

„You could say that, yeah!“

Confused shrugging among the club members. Belial keeps on babbling and blasting something else at the other end of the line. It must be K-Pop or something like that.

„Talk about romance, I hear you have a mate?“

„Yeah dad, it’s Baekhyun.“

„Oh him? I’ve heard of that guy! The merman!“

„He’s really sweet.“

„Make many cute demon babies alright. That would be so adorable. I’m all ready to cuddle wuddle them. I actually came up with baby name suggestions.“

„Dad!“

„You know, 80 years ago. I met your mom…“

„Dad, I don’t wanna hear your love stories. Rather tell me what happened to mom. What did Satan do?“

„Listen here. That was a stupid rumor Azazel was spreading because he’s a gossip man!“ Belial rages at the other end of the line. „Your mom was 8906, alright. She died of diabetes. You got adopted by humans she found trustworthy and planned to be your caretakers.“

„That was all planned?!“

„You were… a bit too young for hell back then. She wanted to leave you the choice later on in life whether you want to be in a clan or come here, or neither of that. I know being a half-breed isn’t easy. And you should get into all these worlds by your own devices. I learned about all of this only much later you see. I’ve been hanging out in the clouds for some time. It’s pretty chill there. But now I’m happy to hear from you.“

„Yeah.“

„If you got anything you need paid? Rent, marriage, car, diapers? Just ask me when needed.“

„I dunno…“

Looks like your dad is a rather forward thinker indeed. Well, least he thought it through.

„If you need it spontaneously and I’m not available, just force Yukhei to give you some pocket money.“

„I don’t have to force him. He already does that without me even asking.“

„That’s what I call a great president!“

„He literally thinks my bank account is free real estate where he can dump anything. I can’t even manage all that,“ you roll your eyes, with Yukhei grinning his most satisfied smile at the end of the table.

On the more unsatisfied end, Kai is about to jump up and sock him in the chest. You know damn well his salary hasn’t been increasing since Yukhei discovered his unsolicited Sugar Daddy hobby. You can buy Baekhyun some extra cotton candy now, but you’ll have to figure out a way to transfer some pocket money to Kai yourself. Now really, he’s been training the shit out of you.

„Even better! Cheers to him. He’s too straight for his own good sometimes though. Anyways. You can drop by as soon as we cleaned up here. We’ll open the circles of hell completely next month.“

„Okay, that’s good news!“

„Once you get pregnant, make sure you two find a flaming cave apartment on the east side! You really wanna raise your kids here. Hellraiser, get it?“

„The east side is too hot for Baekhyun. His tub water would just evaporate, man.“

„Oh! Then the west side. A nice penthouse with panoramic views on a volcano. You’ll get a baking Pompeii face mask every time you’re stepping out! There’s so much ash raining down, your kid can do snow angels on every pavement. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for everything.“

In the meantime, the party guests are blasting Caramelldansen in the background and louds clapping numbs your ears.

„Dad…. you realize you have a lot of clown energy, right? Do you even hear me?“

„Talk about clowns, actually,“ the king carries on completely unbothered. „Mammon really wants to see Kai too, I think he’s missing him. He’s calmed down a little after the Corona crisis messed with his bank account.“

Commotion at the table. Kai almost chokes on his cold tea.

„That’s unexpected… I thought he’d never do that.“

„Yeah aw, I know,“ your father says. „Satan has spread a lot of fake news while he was here, you see.“

„We’re glad to be welcome then? That sounds like a good idea to meet up some time. Maybe for a day or two.“

„Strike! I convinced you!“

„Yeah, you did…“

„Few of you saw hell back in the day, right?“

„Yukhei, Kai, I dunno who else, Ten I’m guessing.“

Nods from the hammock. Wouldn’t be strange if Ten was a regular hell driver.

„Oh Ten! Greet Ten from me. His instagram is what I aspire to. Ten is the coolest. Even the ghouls I know don’t have that kind of fashion sense.“

„Will do.“

„And— about aspirations. We’ll be talking about your heir thing when the time is right you see, I know you want to know about all of this.“

You perk up, as do the club members.

„It’s a thing for the future. I’m not hellbent or anything,“ you say, tongue in cheek.

„Hah! You’re funny. I see we’re agreeing on this. You’re very busy with Baekhyun, right. Love is priority. Hell later. This place is a lot to handle anyway.“

„…exactly.“

„I know my daughter and I didn’t even meet her yet!“

Taeyong does a little aw noise in the background and even Yukhei has to smile.

„I’ll probably tell the same stories you do and blast the same music in a couple years, I can see it coming.“

„And that’s when you’re ready for the throne. Remember—“

„Gotta keep it easy and make it fun.“

„You got it. Until then, live a tense life man, that’s also needed.“

„Dad, what the hell!“

„I actually mean it. Leave it to your old man to get this 9th circle popping in the meantime.“

You get the image of your father watching youtube music videos all day and trying to keep up with the latest slang words on twitter.

„Okay, crazy old man.“

„At your service!“

It almost makes you laugh how the old generation of full-breed demons is completely gone wild and the youngsters are the opposite. Well, except the half-lycans, but they’re always living on the edge anyway.

„Can I speak to Mister Lee as well? Is he around?“

„Mark or Taeyong or Taemin? We have a lot of Lees.“

„Um, the butler guy.“

„Taeyong, here it goes. See you dad!“

You pass the hellephone, Taeyong poises himself.

„Hey there, young man!“

„Not that young. 552, Sire.“

„Hilarious, you can’t even get a Styx boat license around here at that age. Anyway. Got some news for you.“

„Yes, Mister?“

„Mammon recently splurged on the latest robo fancy schmancy tech stuff from Japan for no reason. I guessed you would want to try one on.“

„Pardon— Try on what?“

„Oh, a prosthetic exo-skeleton I mean. I heard you had beef with the loopy guy. Just drop by whenever.“

„A prosthetic arm aid?“

„Well yes!“

„That’s… that’s very kind of you.“

„No problem! Is the your Professor X available to speak to as well?“

„Of course, Sire, one moment,“ Taeyong composes himself, but you can tell he’s still processing it.

Everybody is on the edge of their seat.

„Hi down there,“ Lucas takes the speaker and leans back in his seat very laxly. Compared to how defeated he looked in your office, his posture is much more unwound now.

„Hi up there, Lucas what’s good?“

„Doing mighty fine these days. You gave us a good headline.“

„Oh, you’re very welcome Mister President. There’s headlines about me?“

The King sounds genuinely surprised.

„Yeah. You’ll have to add me in Kai’s Whatsapp group or give me your number. I’ll update you on these types of things.“

„Note down 1666 2666 3666, and I have some updates for you as well.“

Mark and Taeyong instantly start scribbling the number into their vest notebooks, meanwhile Lucas swirls the tea in his cup around.

„Shoot.“

He begins drinking it.

„Mister Cerberus’ daughter graduated today. Canine sciences. Lovely girl, calls herself Circe, you know, like the evil witch. Very intelligent person. She’s looking for a job and a mate in the upper world. I told her about the Club’s situation and you know, gossipped a little. She says she’s interested in you.“

Lucas spits out the tea.

„Sorry, what?“

„Hey, do you really think you’re not a man in demand? Anybody who studies werewolves knows about you. And you have free membership spots, or is that information outdated?“

„I-Is she a half-breed?“

„Of course, do you think Mister Cerberus would date another demon? That would make no sense! Hell, wouldn’t that be beastitality or something? Is it that what you call it?“

„Uh… Bestiality I thought, Sir.“

„Anyways. I haven’t seen Cerberus with anyone else but werewolves.“

„Werewolves are the closest genetically to hell hounds, Mister President,“ Mark leans in confidentially to brief Yukhei. „It’s good conduct for them to date.“

„Oh, uh, I get it.“

„So, do you want to meet her or not?“

„We, we have free spots all the way!“

„Great then, I’ll send her up the staircase now. She’ll be there in a minute or so.“

„The stai—!”

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Gǫfga (Ivar’s PoV)*

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Gǫfga: to worship, to honour (Old Norse)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: A continuation of the events of Chapter 42.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, once again, smut, plus the usual and a focus on Ivar’s past experiences, and his issues with his body. A bit of angst. And, once again, there’s a top and it definitely isn’t Ivar.

A/N: So, this is my first time writing smut on a male’s PoV, so this was a challenge but a fun one! I don’t know if this is any good, but I hope you like it!

This goes alongside Chapter 42, that I also uploaded today. You can find it here :)

If Ivar could choose to linger somewhere for the rest of the time he has on this earth, it would be here, it would be in this.

In any moment with you, really, but this moment more than any other.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling slightly to make him crane his head back. Ivar almost wants to resist if only for the thrilling sting of pain to be felt when you pull on his hair, but the pleased sound you hum against the skin of his throat at how easily he complies renders him mindless, and there is not a world where he would resist you.

Over the beating of his own heart in his ears he makes out that you are talking, and he almost wants to ask how, how are you managing to disarm him with but a touch and yet remain able to whisper all this gentle praise by his ear, making his chest pull tight and the cock he thought useless for too long twitch at every word that leaves your lips.

“I gather I should tell you more often,” You are musing to yourself, or maybe to him. “How much I love everything about you,” The smile he offers at your words is overwhelmed and pitiful, he knows it is, and is almost grateful the only witness to it is the ceiling above him. You continue, dragging your nails against his scalp and making him shiver, “I love your mind, you are so sharp, so clever. And I love your hair, more than anything because of how you react when I do this,” To prove your point, you tug forcefully on his hair, your grip tight, and even through gritted teeth Ivar cannot help the groan he lets out at the sharp sting of pain that he feels all the way though his body. You chuckle, darkly pleased, but pull back and meet his eyes, expression softening, “I love your eyes, they give a lot away,” The tip of your finger traces the shape of his upper lip and, lovesick fool that he is, he finds himself pressing a kiss to the delicate digit. “I love your mouth. Mostly for selfish reasons.”

The glint in your eye makes him chuckle, and he drawls, “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” You promise, a blinding smile that you softly press against his own. “But I also love it for what you say, and for each kiss,” Pulling back, you let your hands grasp his, and you lift one between you, pressing a kiss against the back of it. Ivar only looks at you, letting you have your fill and pretending not to be filled with warmth at such a simple gesture. “I love your hands. I love how they feel against mine, or my body,” You drop his hand, continuing your path up his arms, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps to chase after your touch. “I love your shoulders, your arms,” You continue, your small hands squeezing lightly at the muscles of his shoulder-blades and upper arms, before you continue, determined, on the path you’ve decided. You trace familiar designs on his back, before you move to his chest, tracing the ink shapes there as well. “I love these, even if I don’t understand them. I love your chest, and I love how I can tell when I make you want me because it starts moving with your breathing, quicker and quicker.”

“You always make me want you.” He confesses, but only half his mind is on the words leaving his lips, the rest is focused on the determined path your hands are taking, and how you move your body down to follow that trail with your lips, pressing a kiss over his heart that after everything still makes his chest pull tight with emotion.

“I know,” You tease, side of your mouth quirked into a smile. “It is only fair, love.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so,” You argue, not missing a beat. Still, you drag your teeth lightly over his nipple and chastise, “Stop distracting me.

He says nothing, reluctant to speak and his voice give away how such a simple gesture made arousal cloud everything else for a few moments too long.

Any thought of arousal leaves his head when he feels you press a kiss on each side of his hips, your hands trailing down his sides and not even slowing down as they reach his upper thighs.

You have touched his legs before, but it was distant -or so he told himself- and he distracted himself with the story you told him of your time learning how to heal. But now…

He never really knew what to do against your softness, and the gentleness you so easily offer disarms him more than coldness and distance ever could. Affection threatens to break him more than anything else could, and he knows how pitiful that is, he knows how that speaks of a weakness he could never eradicate no matter how much he tried, and it shames him, but he cannot help it. He cannot help but shudder at each of your soft touches, he cannot help but let his eyes flutter shut when you kiss him gently, he cannot help but want nothing but to press closer when you whisper his name in the mornings.

And now, as your hands trail softly over his legs -thin, cursed legs- Ivar feels more than ever that you might just break him with a touch.

He cannot look at you, and he cannot do anything but try and fight that part of him that just pleads with him to get away, to hide himself, to keep you from seeing how abnormal he is, how broken.

“I love your legs,” You say, voice quieter, more restrained. Your words drop on his chest like a weight and he wonders absently if he is still breathing. “They are a part of you, and I love them as much as I love the rest of you.

You continue leisurely exploring, not appearing disgusted or put off, simply tracing gentle fingers over his thighs, his knobby knees, his scarred calves, as easily as you did over the rest of his body.

And Ivar is pulled between giving in and accepting your touch, basking in the affection you so easily offer to every part of him; or bracing himself for the eventual fall, refusing to accept the softness at the certainty that he will lose it and it will all prove to be a lie.

And so he remains frozen in between, hands clenched into fists so tightly he feels the sharp press of blunt fingernails on his palms as he tells himself you are pitying him, that you are disgusted; yet tears filling his eyes that he squeezes shut as he finds himself relishing in the gentle caresses.

You trace with a tad more dedication over the worse of some of the scars, the agile fingers of a healer trailing over a badly healed broken bone from years ago. You press a kiss against his thigh, and that is all the warning he has before you wrench your touch -your softness, your warmth- away from him.

The loss of your touch unbalances him more than he would like to admit, and with his eyes closed the lack of the warmth of your skin against his makes him lose his hold on his control -on his mind- for a moment.

It is barely a moment where your warmth is gone, and your voice is gone, and parted lips try bringing air to frantic lungs and the smell of lavender is gone too, and you are not there, you are gone. Gone, gone, gone.

Ivar doesn’t realize his breaths are as labored and quick as they are until you put one hand on his chest, doesn’t realize the sound of his own panicked breaths that sound more like sobs than anything else is clouding everything else until your voice reaches him as if from underwater.

“Ivar,” You say, the same love intertwined with iron that your voice has always had. You’re here, you haven’t left. Your hand is on the side of his face and he can’t keep himself from leaning into the touch, still keeping his eyes tightly closed. Of course you wouldn’t leave, he knows you wouldn’t leave him. He knows, because you understand and your voice is quiet as you soothe him, “I’m here, love.”

He nods to tell you he knows, to promise he trusts you, but says nothing. He isn’t sure he can.

You are straddling him again, and when he sits up to be closer you don’t hesitate to hold him, your hands soft and warm as they settle on his back, your voice low and soothing as you say something he cannot understand.

It suddenly is all too much, and he cannot stop trembling.

You promised him forever and still tied to his wrist is the proof you chose him, and not even when he was convinced Freyja had sent you to him had he believed you would willingly choose to stay with him, willingly choose to love him. You looked into his eyes and promised him he had you and your heart and your everything and a part of him still refuses to believe it isn’t a trick, a vision, a mirage.

Because it cannot be real, he knows it can’t. You love him, and you chose him, and you somehow want him enough to make his useless cock work, and you bring him pleasure and you leave your mark with nothing but gentleness all over his body, even his cursed legs, that you don’t hesitate to caress and promise to love as much as the rest of him. One of those things alone would have been enough to believe he was somehow living in a vision.

And it overwhelms him, it throws him under a rip current where he cannot make up from down, he cannot know if he has to force himself to see it isn’t real before he can lose himself in the fantasy or if he has to make haste and seize how everything he’s ever wanted is being offered to him in the shape of one stubborn woman he would give the world to if she asked.

Ivar wants to grunt out a curse at his own weakness, but his voice refuses to be heard, and he wants to get his body under his control, but for some stupid reason he can’t stop trembling.

You pay no mind to his weakness, you make no mention of the pathetic display, choosing instead to hold him tightly to you, letting his face be hidden against the curve of your throat, and only run your hand up and down his back as his breaths waver between somewhat normal to gasping and panicked.

He has never felt so much of your bare body pressed against his, or maybe he has, but it has never felt like this. This, all-encompassing, overwhelming, maddening, soothing.

He truly doesn’t know how much time passes, how long he lingers in the safety you offer, how much of your affection he basks in. Time has proven to be pointless to him lately, with the coming of spring being one cold morning of winter and the borrowed time he thought would mean the end of it all marking only the beginning, so he doesn’t care much for time anymore.

But he knows enough time passes that his heart returns to a normal pace and no longer trashes in his ribcage, he knows he lingers in the safety of your embrace for long enough that his hand start aimlessly exploring your body again, he knows he basks in enough of your affection to put him back together, though he knows there really won’t ever be enough if you ask him.

Eyes still closed, his mouth seeks yours, and he kisses you deeply, realizing only once he is begging entrance into your mouth of the urgency that had overcome him, of the desperation to have you as close as he can, to feel nothing but you.

Soon enough you are quivering at the dance of his fingers against you, tightening your walls around him, and crying out his name in a way that will never cease to fill him with pride and warmth. He takes in the sight of you as he always does, awed and reverent and desperate for you, for what you sound like when you come because of him, for the praise of your moans and cries of pleasure.

Relentless, ruthless, Ivar chases after your pleasure as if it were his own, and feels the daze of arousal set upon him as he watches you unravel for him.

When your hand reaches down for his cock it takes everything in him not to stop you, not to jump with the by now familiar words of how he cannot do this at the tip of his tongue. Instead, he hears your voice as clearly as if you were speaking those words again, give in to me, Ivar.

And he does, helplessly yours.

And he focuses on nothing but you, nothing but the feel of your body against his, of your wet center around his fingers, of your delicate hand around him, of your mouth on his. He gives in, he willingly follows you to the edge of that abyss and trusts you will be there when he falls, to pull him back to safety or fall with him.

He hardens even further at your touch, and soon enough you have him robbed of breath and of sanity, muffling frenzied moans against your lips and unable to help the way his body presses harder against you, against your touch.

He has never felt this before, this painful desperation, this urgent need, this want.

“I need you,” He tells you, a choked whisper. The look in your eyes tells him you very much want to delay this, want to truly test how far you can take that need. His heart trashes madly in his chest, and he finds himself insisting, “I need you, my love.”

It is then that your expression softens, and you look as overwhelmed as he feels, naked want and this particular kind of longing reflected in your eyes as much as Ivar knows is reflected in his own.

Your hand lifts to caress the side of his face -your left hand, he feels the cold of your ring, and his throat tightens- and you look into his eyes with a sigh of his name.

His chest hurts. It pulls tight at the open adoration in your face and the soft touch you grant him, and he can’t say anything, only look at you with wide eyes with nothing to hide.

The dainty fingers of your free hand circle his length, and Ivar tries not to whimper at the touch.

You meet his eyes, draw him into your gaze and keep him trapped. Bewitched, some might say.

“I love you, Ivar.”

“I-…”

His words die in a choked groan when you finally take him inside you, guiding him in until he fills you completely.

Ivar knows he is gripping your legs tight enough to leave imprints but he cannot release the tension from his body, he cannot…Gods.

Nothing could have prepared him for this, feeling your mouth on him was nothing compared to how your walls feel tightening around him, stealing from him whatever breath he had left.

“Gods, love,” You breathe, voice almost a whine, “You look…”

You don’t’ finish your sentence, instead rocking back and forth in your place, sending jolts of pleasure so jolting they are almost painful down Ivar’s spine.

His grip on you tightens, and he breathlessly pleads, “Don’t move.”

He is certain if you do he will peak then and there, and he cannot have that. He wants to feel you tightening around him like you do around his fingers when he makes you come, he wants to be inside you when you draw your pleasure from him until you are calling his name breathlessly.

But the woman he married wouldn’t let him off easy, of course. You don’t move, but he is certain the way you tighten around him and make him gasp helplessly is very much on purpose.

“Does it feel good to be inside me, Ivar?” You ask, accented voice sultry and rough. And he opens his mouth to tell you to have mercy, but no sound leaves his lips, only a choked gasp that once could have been your name.

He is used to feeling like his body is betraying him. Incapable of walking as he wishes to, fragile bones keeping him from motion. He has learned to live with that, has learned to endure.

But now, now the way his body threatens to betray him is entirely new, and Ivar finds himself robbed of breath and of control and of his own body. It all is yours, just as he is.

There is only you, you and the maddening scent of lavender and something else, you and the feeling of you around him, you and the quickened breaths that taunt and tease him.

Ivar wills his body to settle, to adjust to the feeling, and eventually he relinquishes the tight hold on your thighs. He doesn’t have to say a word, but you understand and you begin to move.

It is a sight to behold, to have you above him, a slow dance of your hips as you lift yourself up and come back down, a sensual grind that makes you gasp with every movement.

He finds himself dangerously close to letting pleas leave his mouth, throat tightening in tandem with his lower stomach.

“Gods…” Is what leaves his lips instead in a helpless whisper, though it feels like a prayer to you and you alone.

Restless, he reaches with his hands to cup the underside of your breasts, thumbs trailing over your nipples and making your back arch in pleasure, sending a rush all the way down his spine at the sight.

A stuttering moan leaves your lips and you grind as you come back down upon him, and you brace yourself against him, one of your hands gripping at his shoulder.

Your hand comes to rest dangerously close to his throat, close enough that he once again almost finds himself pleading. Ivar feels himself quiver, and lets his head fall back with a clenched jaw, heat lacing his entire body.

He feels weightless, overwhelmed. He feels owned, and finds he doesn’t mind one bit.

You are pressed against him, and your moans and whines are gentle praise that breezes by his ear and makes him tremble. He tries telling you, hopes he does in a way that isn’t as broken and undone as it sounds to his own ears, of how much he wants you, of how beautiful you are, of how he loves everything you are doing.

Reaching between you, he lets his fingers trace a familiar dance as they draw more pleasure from you, and you begin to tighten almost painfully around him.

Gentle hands turn into talons that desperately claw at his back and Ivar finds himself losing a bit of his mind with each scratch and each sting of pain that you draw on his back.

Breathing becomes harder and harder, now that you are coming undone around him, because of him, clinging to him and moaning out praise and need. He feels it building in his spine, depriving his lungs of even breaths, stealing the steadiness of his hands as he grips at you tighter, guiding your motions with growing desperation.

With a sharp cry that leaves your lips, the maddening movement of your hips stutters out of rhythm, and your thighs clench tight around Ivar.

His eyes want to fall shut but he refuses to miss a moment of this, and opens them to watch you, head tilted back and lost in your pleasure, still moving above him. More than ever, he thinks he sees a goddess in human form.

“I-Ivar…” You call, repeated pleas of his name that make his heart stutter

He cannot say anything, he cannot find the words to articulate what you are making him feel, and so he brings your lips to his. His mouth urges yours open, biting down on your lip and dipping his tongue without hesitation, trying to convey without words how he feels so tethered and yet at the edge of an abyss.

But he cannot find it in him to make you move faster above him. If anything, he uses his grip on you to urge you to slow down.

He feels his release is close, and while everything about him is screaming urgency and need, he keeps the motions painstakingly complete, wanting to feel everything about this moment.

Your eyes meet his and he is tethered there, kept anchored to this world by your gaze alone, as you move above him, thorough motions that make the pressure build more and more.

His breaths are ragged, and he cannot focus on anything at all, he cannot fight it anymore.

Ivar succumbs to his release with a sharp cry, a stutter of your name that becomes drawled moans that he breathes against your throat, burying himself as deep inside you as he can as he spills himself.

Your arms are tight around him, and he finds his breaths are in tandem with the trail of your hand up and down his back.

“I love you.” He tells you, words not enough but somehow all-encompassing. You both ignore the way his breath hitches, the way his voice is thick with emotion.

“And I love you.” You promise quietly, lowering your face to press a kiss against the sweaty skin of his shoulder.

Ivar buries his nose in your hair, breathes in the smell of lavender and something else, remaining in that quiet afterglow with only your breaths and his own permeating the silence.

It felt strange, to be held like this, to be held as he gave you everything he had to give. It made his heart feel raw and exposed, it made the familiar prickle of tension, of the instinct to push back against the weakness that you drew from him; but the feeling of peace, the safety of having fallen and having had you there to catch him -or to fall with him-, the warmth that surrounds him and lulls him into closing his eyes, it trumps any fear.

____ ____ ____

I hope this was okay, thank you for reading!

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