#notes from their handler

[gemsbian]

draft for a character idea i've had for a while. E3a is the human and E3b is the Houndoom, they're a package deal

[ceiling-karasu]

Alright! So the dormouse OC was apparently going to happen!

I keep thinking about him, so I'm going to have to turn that Tokgasi mouse deserter from chapter 3 into a new OC, and maybe include him in another chapter before his own AU.

After doing some more research this weekend, I guess I headcanon 'field mice' as being dormice (maybe specifically Japanese dormice). Dormice are more closely related to squirrels and beavers than they are actual mice, apparently.

They are also relatively rare. Which would make the Weasel Unit see them as perfect spies to sneak into Flower Hill disguised as squirrels, since it is unlikely that Flower Hill would know about the species. Any quick check while infiltrating a unit or town would prove that the tails were real anyway, so another dormouse infiltration AU could be a go.

It would easy enough for a dormouse who was used to living in poverty to desert to Flower Hill and try to live unnoticed among the populace, either because of horrible treatment at the hands of the weasels and Tokgasi, or because they are just seeking a better life than what was offered.

As for his name, the alternative name for a dormouse is 'sleepy mouse,' since they hibernate during the winter, so I am naming him Jollin (Sleepy).

Of course, there is the danger of what would happen if someone were to find out about who he really is, or if Tokgasi ever finds him again.

Obviously, I already have Flower Hill knowing who and what he is, and capitalizing on having him continue to receive orders, while sending back some true but somewhat useless information to his handlers.

I see him as having a calm, laid back job as a mail-carrier and supply deliverer between a group of small villages. Kind of like some BBC Masterpiece Theater series with a subplot about the kindly neighborhood fixture hiding a dark past. Which is what I said about the weasel doctor pretending to be an otter, so I might just be thinking about those types of plots a lot.

But Jollin could be good at solving mysteries and disputes between neighbors. He himself is a very frightened individual, and tends to act like a typical scared mouse. Everyone assumes it is some type of trauma from losing his village and family, and try their best to make him feel welcome. Still , he is determined enough to go through with Tokgasi's training in order to become a scout and escape the clutches of the weasels to begin with.

But where do his true loyalties lie? Will he turn against Flower Hill and rejoin the Weasel Unit should his luck change, or if Tokgasi forces him to join again with no way out? Or will he stay in an uncertain future where everyone in his new home may turn against him?

In a remote area, Jollin could listen to all the gossip of the neighbors and also report back on that if he gets any important information. Or, he could be innocent, and desperately trying to avoid attention. Which would allow the Flower Hill Commanders to send dismantled weapons and ammunition to the villages through him, since he would be the only one not to actually inspect why so many packages were going through the area.

Just a fun little AU.

[goldendevilsivy]

i've realize that i do have a type of favorite character and it's middle aged-ish man who probably wears glasses and is done w the main character's bullshit

[iminaworldofpureimagination]

chelsea handler met epstein at a dinner party for andrew in 2010 claiming she didn know him, and is friends with bateman who is freidns with willarnett so now my brain is fried again ughhh

Chelsea Handler Recalls 'Weird' Dinner Party at Jeffrey Epstein's House (toofab.com)

she admits it here

[a-large-orange-cat]

For blackbird au, is the Justice League and the Teen Titans still a thing? Will Spoiler and Damian and Cass make an appearance in the later parts?

the JL and Teen Titans were both founded while Dick was Robin, so yes, they're still around! after Jason's death, Batman basically became an emergency reserve in the JL instead of a central member. Dick was with the Titans for a while as Nightwing, hence Deathstroke's brief appearance, but when Tim pulled his "use Nightwing to stop Batman from killing himself in grief" plan, Dick left the Titans to focus on Gotham. neither group comes up in the chokehold fic because Batman's more isolated in this AU, so his "don't come into Gotham" rule is in full effect.

for a couple years there, the superhero community treated Nightwing kind of as Batman's handler--if you needed the Bat for a mission, you told Nightwing, because Batman was making himself as unavailable as possible.

Bruce himself recovered from Jason's death in a way his Batman persona kind of never did--this Batman is more grimdark, more cold and isolated, even though Dick eventually pulled Bruce out of his guilt/grief death-spiral.

Spoiler and Batgirl (Cass) are both out and about in Gotham! they get a small mention in the next fic coming up, but they operate with Barb, not with Bruce. Damian will eventually get some screentime dedicated to him, just because thinking about how badly he'd match up to this Tim was too funny to not

[creepy-crowleys]

State of the Blog - January 2023

Kicking around ideas for where we're going from here

So. Our next major port of call - somewhat literally this time - is the Sargasso Sea, a region of the Atlantic Ocean bounded by a circle of currents that completely surround it and known for being coated for its namesake Sargassum seaweed.

Early sailors sometimes feared the waters for the density of the weed and calm winds. Though the latter likely posed more danger than the former, the sea still enjoyed some fame in literature and film as a graveyard of ships, forever mired in Sargassum and sometimes set upon by otherworldly marine life.

Much of it's danger and mystery would later be shifted to the Bermuda Triangle, which overlaps part of its area.

In the Secret World, the Sargasso Sea is choked - at least in part - by a red Sargassum, as opposed to the brown of the real world, and is home to the draug, the deep ones, and their creator, the Red Sargasso Dreamer. Together they act as the first major threat of the first arc of the game: Dawning of an Endless Night. The current plan is to revisit a certain loose end from back then.

We never did find out what became of Cassandra King and Excalibur.

Aesthetically, I see us going back to a lot of the same kinds of things we saw throughout the Solomon Island arc and especially the Polaris dungeon with it's broken weed-coated chunks of land amid a graveyard of ships, loosely jumbled in an almost impenetrable, possibly space-defying fog.

Which should be fun given Crowley can't entirely swim!

She also has a bit of history with the Red Sargasso Dreamer itself.

I've also been toying with the idea of introducing the floating Phoenician base of New Carthage here and revisiting a couple of Phoenician-aligned friendlies.

We'll see! I'm cautiously thinking of getting this started sometime in spring - March/April maybe.

[smileysuh]

truth serum

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. When you’d taken this job as a handler, it hadn’t been a babysitting gig. You’d signed on to work with Seungcheol because he was supposed to be one of the best agents… supposed to be. There’d been a time, three months ago, when he’d completed a job with flying colors. The two of you had celebrated at a hotel in Paris after the success, and after two bottles of champagne, you’d actually thought you were starting to get to know the guy. But whatever inklings of a gentleman you’d seen that night had disappeared soon after, and things have been up in the air ever since. His man whoring ways are at an all-time high, and his judgment has been questionable, to say the least. Now he’s gone and gotten himself captured, and you can’t help but fear the worst.

tw/cw. Seungcheol gets truth-serumed and a little beat up, unprotected sex, dirty talk, dominant Seungcheol, power dynamics, praise, one hint of degradation that’s quickly squashed, breast/nipple play, fingering, oral, foreplay in the kitchen, bdsm subthemes, spanking as a punishment, pain kink, multiple reader orgasms, creampie/fullness kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey. (his) angel eyes.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.6k

🍭 aus. Secret agent au, handler reader, coworker au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you for being patient with me this month on my svt posting for June! My birthday is on the 25th and your smiley has been busy- so grateful I could get this out, even without a teaser post :) I don't know anything about actual secret agents, but this was a fun fanfic idea I had and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did :)

“I’m just going to go talk to her.”

You hate how nonchalant Seungcheol sounds, hate how easily he can be swayed by pretty women, even while out on jobs. It’s your responsibility to keep him in check, the little angel on his shoulder, and in his ear. “Don’t do it,” you warn him.

“Her husband’s the target, from what I’ve seen, she’s harmless,” the agent counters.

“How easily swayed you are by pretty women, and need I remind you this isn’t the first time you’ve let a person of interest’s wife become your focus.”

“Careful, Honey, for a moment there it sounded like you were jealous.”

You’re watching Seungcheol through the casino’s live footage, a stream you’d easily hacked for the operation at hand. He’s leaning against the bar, all suave in dress pants and a white button-up that he’s left open just enough to show his prominent chest-

“That’s your third drink,” you note, changing the topic, “don’t let it cloud your judgment, Angel Eyes.” 

“We both know I can hold my liquor,” Seungcheol insists, raising his glass and sending a wink toward the camera before he downs the Old Fashioned. “I’m just going to go talk to her, she could give good intel.”

You let out a deep sigh. Sometimes, being Seungcheol’s handler can be a pain in the ass. Does he ever listen to you? Not usually. Does he get the job done, though? Most of the time.

“Trust me,” Seungcheol says, voice lowering. “I’m not going to do what you think I’m going to do.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair while you scan the screens in front of you. “Seduce her James Bond style and compromise this entire thing?”

“Maybe only half of that.”

God, he’s such a womanizer, but with a face like his, and the perks that come with his job, he can afford to be. 

“If this goes sideways, don’t expect me to bail you out of it.” you warn him.

“Honey, bailing me out is your job.”

You hate it when Seungcheol goes out of your visuals, and entering a hotel room with a target’s wife was not on the itinerary tonight. For the first ten minutes, you’d sat anxiously, listening in on his smooth-talking, when the woman had suggested they take things to the bedroom, part of you had wondered if you should call this whole thing off and let Seungcheol do what he always does: fuck the hot wife and sort things out later.

But when you hear a male voice, and a startled, “Who is this?” from Seungcheol, you’re glad you’d stayed anxiously glued to your computer.

A faint, “Friend of my husband,” said in a nonchalant female tone, sets you off immediately, and you’re grabbing your phone to get backup support before you can even think. 

You try to take deep breaths while you listen to what sounds like a fight taking place on Seungcheol’s end, and suddenly, the wire goes dead. Now, there are no sounds, only the racing of your own heart and the blood rushing through you.

“What’s going on?” Your supervisor's voice makes you jump, and you turn to see Jeonghan standing there with Hansol, another handler. 

“Cheol made a move on his target’s wife, went back to her room, but the wife brought friends. The wire is dead.”

“Fuck,” Jeonghan groans, “This is the third time this has happened to him.”

“I tried reminding him of that,” you say, your voice raising with anxiety.

Hansol offers you a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. He takes care of an agent named Seungkwan, and while Seungkwan gets into his own messes, he’s not the type to go after married women in the middle of a job. 

Jeonghan’s leaning over your computer now, and he brings up the map tracker you have on Seungcheol. “I’m sending this location to another agent we have in the area,” he tells you, quickly taking the reigns of the fuck up that’s just happened.

“It’s Wonwoo, isn’t it?” you sigh. “It’s always Wonwoo cleaning up Seungcheol’s messes.”

“Yes, it’s Wonwoo,” Jeonghan admits. “We made sure he’d be in the wings tonight in case something like this happened.”

“God, this isn’t good-” you groan.

“No,” Jeonghan responds, “It’s not. After tonight I’ll have to have a serious talk with Seungcheol, and a serious talk with you about reassignment if we decide Seungcheol is a liability.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. 

When you’d taken this job as a handler, it hadn’t been a babysitting gig. You’d signed on to work with Seungcheol because he was supposed to be one of the best agents… supposed to be. There’d been a time, three months ago, when he’d completed a job with flying colors. The two of you had celebrated at a hotel in Paris after the success, and after two bottles of champagne, you’d actually thought you were starting to get to know the guy. But whatever inklings of a gentleman you’d seen that night had disappeared soon after, and things have been up in the air ever since. His man whoring ways are at an all-time high, and his judgment has been questionable, to say the least. Now he’s gone and gotten himself captured, and you can’t help but fear the worst.

After a harrowing two hours, you find yourself in the med section of the agency compound. Wonwoo is stationed outside of Seungcheol’s room, and he stands straighter as you approach. “Hey, Honey,” he says, using your codename even though there’s really no reason for it right now.

“Wonwoo- how is he?” You anxiously look toward the door Wonwoo is guarding with his body.

Although you’d been connected to the whole ‘rescue Seungcheol operation,’ you’re still buzzing with anxiety. It’s unexplainable, and definitely bordering on unacceptable given the line of work you’re in, but damn it, you can’t help but care for the man you handle every day.

“Jeonghan’s with him right now,” Wonwoo responds smoothly.

Your heart thunders even louder in your ribcage. Jeonghan had mentioned Seungcheol being a liability- is he getting fired right now?

Part of you aches to be with him, to defend his stupid behaviour- but you know it’s not your place, besides, what would you even say? You’d told Seungcheol not to go after the target’s wife, and he’d done it anyway, which shows a lack of regard for handler instructions.

Seungcheol has become a liability, and you hate that things have come to this.  

“What do you think is going to happen?” you ask.

Wonwoo shrugs. “That’s above my paygrade.”

He’s awfully stoic, even for a spy, and while it can be intriguing at times, right now, his deflections only frustrate you more.

You let out a sigh. “What if I asked you to guess what’s going to happen?”

Wonwoo looks at you for a moment. “I’d guess Seungcheol will be put on a break.”

“A break,” you repeat. “Like… a permanent one?”

The spy can only shrug again, a nonchalant motion that’s way too disinterested for your liking.

Jeonghan’s been trying to talk you into working as Wonwoo’s handler for a while now, and although you know Wonwoo would be much less of a hassle than Seungcheol, you can’t bare to tear yourself away from the spy whose messes you’ve been helping clean up for over a year. 

Despite Seungcheol’s massive ego, and his magnetic attraction toward trouble, there’s something about him that makes you want to care for him. Sure, he never listens, especially when you give him advice about women, but Seungcheol has a certain something about him- something that you won’t give up easily.

Before you can talk further with Wonwoo, the med room door opens and Jeonghan steps out. He lets out a deep sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.

You hold your breath, waiting for your boss to give you instructions.

“This is a shit show,” Jeonghan says finally. 

Neither you nor Wonwoo verbally agree with him, but brief eyecontact between the two of you makes it known what you’re both thinking.

Jeonghan addresses you next. “I’m guessing you want to go in there and talk to him.”

You can only nod.

“Look, it might not be the best idea, but fuck it.” Jeonghan uncrosses his arms, looking at you with a steady expression. “They gave Seungcheol some kind of truth serum. I don’t know how long it will be in effect, but I do know he’s vulnerable right now. I probably shouldn’t let you in there- but… I’m just going to walk down the hall to get a coffee, and if you happen to slip through the door then so be it. I didn’t see anything, and since Wonwoo is coming with me, he didn’t either.”

You stare in shock for a moment, unsure what to say. There’s nothing to be said, and when Jeonghan dispurses, Wonwoo is quick to follow.

You turn to the door, and after a deep breath, you slip inside the med room.

Seungcheol is lying in a hospital bed. His lip is battered and there’s a blossoming purple bruise around his left brow, but other than that, he looks remarkably well.

“Honey?” He sits up when you enter, eyes widening in shock.

“Cheol-” Your voice cracks as you take the seat next to the bed, and while part of you wants to reach for his hand, you hold yourself back.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, and those are two words you’ve never heard from him before. “You were right… about the wife.”

“That’s not important right now,” you sigh. 

“It is. You’re my handler, and I didn’t listen to you, and that was wrong. If I had listened, we wouldn’t have gotten into this mess.”

You study him. You know he’s vulnerable, Jeonghan said as much, and with a truth serum impeding his ability to lie or evade questions, you want to be careful- but you also want answers, answers that you can only truly get right now.

“Why’d you do it?” you ask finally. “This time, and all the other times. You always go after the women, and I thought it was because you found it easy- seduction is what you’re good at, but- I don’t understand how you don’t see how dangerous it is.” 

“Honey-”

“They’re thinking about reassigning me to Wonwoo, and before that happens, I just need to know why, Cheol. When you have the potential to be the best agent in this company, why are you always so ready to jump ship and fuck any rich married woman even though you know it will fuck everything up?”

“They can’t reassign you to Wonwoo!” Seungcheol sits up abruptly, and the heart rate monitor next to him beeps a sign of warning at his increasing pulse.

“They can do whatever they want, you should be worried about your own job. You don’t even listen to me as your handler half the time, maybe you should be with someone you actually respect.” 

“I respect you,” Seungcheol blurts out.

“It doesn’t feel like you do.”

“I do,” he insists. “I-” Seungcheol’s voice cracks. “I get with women to distract myself.”

“Distractions in this line of work can be fatal.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he snaps, making you go silent. “Maybe I have a death wish.”

“Cheol-”

“Stop calling me Cheol.”

“Stop calling me Honey.”

“No.”

You glare at him, anger bubbling and inspiring you to dive deeper into your questioning, despite the fact that you know this isn’t a morally good idea. “Why do you need a distraction?”

“Because you’re a distraction. Your voice in my ear- it distracts me.”

“Maybe reassignment is a good idea.”

“You’re not being reassigned.” Seungcheol’s voice is practically a growl, and you’ve never seen this side of him.

“Why not?”

His expression breaks. “Because I need you.”

“You clearly don’t.”

“I do,” he insists. “I know I’m not good at showing it- but I do, I need you.”

 “Cheol-”

“Honey.”

“Tell me why.”

“Because-” Seungcheol lets out a sigh, and he punches at the hospital bed. “Look, I’m scared, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Scared of what?”

“Of falling for you.”

“Huh?” Now you’re confused. You’re staring at this lady killer agent, the sexiest man you’ve ever met, and you can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “But- all the women you go after-”

“Distractions from you, from the voice in my head.” Seungcheol swallows thickly. “That night in Paris…”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you hold your breath for the next words about to leave him.

“That night- fuck, I’ve never met someone like you before. I’ve never felt-” he bites at his lip, and you wince, knowing it must hurt to put pressure on the wound there. “I got with those other women to try to convince myself that I didn’t need you. I didn’t need your guidance, I didn’t need your care, I didn’t need you- but… I do need you.” Seungcheol meets your gaze. “I’ve needed you more than I’ve ever needed anyone, and it scares me.”

Aside from the heart rate monitor beeping through the room, you swear you could hear a pin drop as you stare at Seungcheol, trying to register everything he’s just said.

“I-”

“It’s my turn to ask a question now,” Seungcheol says. “How do you feel about me?” 

“I think…” You swallow thickly. “I never understood why I stayed working with you after everything, but… maybe I understand now. Maybe I need you too.”

“Maybe?” Seungcheol flashes you a sexy smirk, and it makes you look away, hating how he makes you feel, hating how inappropriate this whole thing is.

“I’m definitely going to have to be reassigned now,” you tell him.

“What? Why?”

“You know why. This,” you point between the two of you, “this has been the liability the whole time. We’re the liability, Cheol.”

He sits and thinks about it for a moment. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” You let out a laugh. 

“Just… don’t work with Wonwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You can’t help but laugh at the request.

“Because I think he’s into you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first,” you tease, standing up so you can sit on the bed, wanting to be closer to Seungcheol. “Besides,” you pinch at his chin, inspecting the wounds on his face, “Wonwoo might actually listen to me.”

“Honey,” Seungcheol slaps your hand away, instead grabbing at the back of your neck to bring your lips dangerously close to his, “don’t test me right now.” 

“Or what?”

He lets out a shaky breath, his gaze dipping down to your lips. “Jeonghan’s putting me on a two-week mental health break or some shit, this isn’t even a question of ‘or what’ anymore. While I’m on leave, I’m going to fuck you stupid. I’m going to make it so you can’t even leave the fucking bed. I’m going to show you that I’m not the kind of man who receives instructions, I give them. Think you can handle it?”

God, your core is throbbing from his words alone, and you can’t muster up any for yourself. You can only nod, staring at the beautiful, bruised, stubborn man in front of you.

“You should get out of here before I bend you over this fucking bed and get us both fired.” Seungcheol releases you, leaning back to put distance between your lips. 

“Do you think you’ll be released tonight?” you ask, voice quiet.

“Are you that eager to see what I’m made of, honey?” Seungcheol lets out a laugh.

“Maybe.”

“Yes, I think I’ll be out of here soon, after this stupid serum wears off. You know, this whole interrogating me while I’m vulnerable thing isn’t going to go unpunished.”

“I hope you do your worst,” you challenge him.

The agent scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re trouble.”

“Hypocrite,” you grin, standing and heading to the door. “Call me when you’re out, then you can take me home.”

You’re waiting by Seungcheol’s car in the parking garage when he comes out of the elevator. He’s dressed in black dress pants and the same white button-up he’d been wearing hours earlier. The collar is speckled with blood, the buttons undone to reveal his broad chest- his suit jacket is held in a fist, and he’s never looked sexier.

He doesn’t say anything as he approaches, closing the distance between the two of you. His hand finds your cheek, and his eyes stare into your own, your lips only inches apart. Then, he’s kissing you for the first time, a desperate, needy kiss that sets your entire body on fire.

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pressing your chest flush to his own. Your mouth opens instinctively, accepting the tongue that strokes by your teeth.

Seungcheol’s hand moves down to your ass, and he squeezes you roughly, pushing you back against the black jeep wrangler he’s been driving recently. The motion has you moaning against his lips, and Seungcheol breaks the kiss with a grin. His forehead rests against your own, and you both struggle to catch your breath.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he tells you.

“Me too,” you admit, swallowing thickly. “So… your place?”

“My place,” he confirms, reaching behind you to open the door to his car. He grabs your hand to help you up into the tanked-out jeep, then gently shuts the door behind you.

Your heart is racing. You can’t believe you’re actually doing this. 

A couple of hours ago, you’d feared the worst, and now, you desperately need good, dirty, wet sex with Seungcheol to take your mind off the anxiety that’s still coursing through you.

“So,” you clear your throat as he pulls out of the parking garage, “did you talk to Jeonghan?”

Seungcheol laughs, reaching to hold your hand while he drives. “Yes, I talked to Jeonghan.”

“Did you mention me?”

“I mentioned you a lot. Mentioned you the first time he came in to talk. He asked the same kinds of questions you did, turns out you’re the only one who was completely oblivious to the way I felt about you.”

“Well… I mean… you’re the agent, not me. Figuring out secrets is your job, I just do handler stuff.” Your skin heats at the idea that others saw his affection for you, but you’d been so blind.

“He agrees that this thing between us, whatever it is, it’s the liability, not either of us alone. He’s putting me on rest, like I said, and when you’re up for it, he’d like to reassign you to some new hire, this wizz kid named Dino or something.”

Although you know reassignment is the best thing in this situation, it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Can you really trust someone else to be Seungcheol’s handler? God, you’re feeling downright territorial of this man already-

“Yeah, I’m not too happy about it either,” Seungcheol sighs, rubbing his thumb along your hand. “Some new kid getting you in his ear- he better not fall in love with you.”

“Did you fall in love with me?” you ask.

“Truth serum has worn off, honey,” Seungcheol grins, grinning and bringing your hand to his lips. “But yes, as cliche and stupid as it sounds, I did. And don’t worry, you don’t have to say it back, I know you were all hot and bothered by me too.”

You scoff loudly.

“What was it you said earlier? I ‘find seduction easy’? Don’t pretend we’re not in the same boat here, honey.” 

“God, I hate you.” You try to tear your hand away from him but he’s unrelenting.

“Liar. You love me. Love me so much you’re going to let me rearrange your guts.”

“Don’t be so vulgar,” you chastise him.

Seungcheol casts you a sideways glance. “You’re not my handler anymore, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Your pussy throbs at his words. The dynamic between the two of you has always been a push-pull. You were supposed to be the one giving orders, but it never felt… correct. You’d bet your life that soon, when Seungcheol has you pressed to his bed, whispering all sorts of dirty commands in your ear- well, you have no doubts that will feel more natural. 

“As dominant as you like to pretend you are as a handler, I think we both know you’d rather be the submissive,” Seungcheol points out. “I can’t wait to see how good you’ll be for me.”

“Cheol-”

“Look at you, honey, a little dirty talk and you’re already a blabbering mess. Can’t find the words, can you?”

“Fuck.”

“You’re adorable,” he grins, shaking his head a little. “You’ll be good for me, I know you will be.”

You’re kissing Cheol the moment you get into his penthouse- or… is he kissing you? It’s hard to tell who moved first, all you know is that one thing leads to another and suddenly he’s hoisting you onto a kitchen counter, his hands already unbuttoning your pants.

You break your heated kiss to take a breath, looking up at the ceiling while he quickly attaches his lips to your neck. “Cheol- this is going a bit fast.”

“Is it?” He tugs your pants down, grinning against your throat. “Do you want me to slow down?”

His thumb finds your clit through your panties and you let out a whimper, clinging onto his strong shoulders.

You can’t even think right now, especially not when he begins to draw small circles against your sensitive bud, pulling away from you so he can watch your face. You open your eyes to look at him, loving the intensity in his expression.

“Tell me to slow down,” he says.

You take a breath, trying to process his words. They’d sounded like a command, so, begrudgingly, you whisper, “Slow down.”

“Too bad, I don’t listen to what you tell me to do, remember?” 

He’s such a shit-

A shit that gets onto his knees to immediately burry his face between your thighs, tugging your panties to the side roughly so his tongue can make direct contact with your already throbbing pussy.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you whimper loudly, threading your fingers through his silky dark hair, your legs already shaking around his head.

“Been thinking about what you’d taste like,” Seungcheol muses, pressing a sloppy kiss to your inner thigh. “Knew your pussy would be perfect for me.”

God, his words are getting to you, your mind completely blank of a comeback as Seungcheol dives back into his task, his lips wrapping harshly around your clit.

All you can do is gasp and whine for him, writhing on his kitchen counter while he works you closer and closer to an orgasm with his tongue alone.

When he pulls away to drag two fingers up your slit, your body tenses in anticipation.

“Relax,” Seungcheol chuckles, looking up at you with that handsome grin of his, “It’s only me, honey. You’re comfortable with me…” he pushes his digits into your core, cocking a brow, “right?”

“Yes, fuck-”

“Yes, what?” He crooks his fingers, hitting your gspot and making you cry out.

“Yes, I’m comfortable with you!” you belt out, falling back onto the table so you don’t have to hold yourself up anymore. You want to feel everything he’s giving you- want him to have your full focus.

“Good girl. I think you deserve a reward for admitting that, don’t you?” 

You can feel Seungcheol’s breath on your clit while he pumps his fingers, abusing the sweet spot that already has you close to the edge.

“Yeah, yes- I deserve a reward-”

Seungcheol pulls away abruptly, landing a slap to your pussy that has you squealing, your thighs closing around his hand. Your eyes snap open and you stare at him in shock.

“That sounded like a command, honey,” Seungcheol says, prying your legs apart. “Thought we agreed I’d be in charge tonight, and you know I hate being told what to do.”

“I-” you swallow thickly. “Please? Please let me cum?”

“Let you cum?” he taunts, thumb finding your clit but not applying nearly enough pressure.

“Please… make me cum?” you suggest, wanting - more than anything - to say the right thing for him.

“Because you asked so nicely.” Seungcheol flashes you a wink, and then his fingers are slipping into your wet core again, picking up where he left off. His lips return to your clit, which is practically buzzing from the slap, and before you even know it, he has you at the edge.

“Please make me cum,” you whimper desperately. “Fuck, I’m so close- please make me cum, I’ve tried to be a good girl for you- please-”

He hums a sound of confirmation, and the buzzing vibration on your clit is enough to get you there. Your pussy clamps down hard on his fingers, your back arching as waves of pleasure surge through you. Your toes curl against his broad shoulders, sounds leaving you uncensored as you fill his apartment with cries of relief.

You’re throbbing, your pussy practically dripping at this point, but Seungcheol doesn’t let up. Even when you tug on his hair to try to pull him away, he refuses to move. He finger fucks you and sucks on your clit, ignoring the way your thighs close around him, working you through your high all the way until the end.

Seungcheol finally relents when your pussy stops contracting around him, and you let out a massive sigh when he pulls away. You can feel his eyes on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him yet, not when you’re still feeling the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm.

You feel him begin to unbutton your shirt and his lips find the swell of your breasts as soon as it’s open. He’s soft in his kisses, gentle, tender even. “Have you come back down to earth yet, honey?” he asks, nuzzling up to your throat.

“Yeah- that was just, really good,” you let out a small laugh, threading your fingers through his hair to keep him tucked to your chest.

“That was just the appetizer, you still haven’t had the main course.”

“God, you’re so-”

“So what?” he teases. “Handsome? Charming? Lovable?”

“Sure of yourself,” you breathe.

“Let me show you something,” he prompts, reaching for your hand. He pulls away from your chest to stand up straight again, guiding your fingers to the front of his pants. His cock is straining against the fabric, and you open your eyes to see Seungcheol grinning when you gasp at how large he is. “When a man has a cock like mine, he can afford to be sure of himself.”

You shiver at his words, and it makes Seungcheol laugh. “Come on, let me take you to bed.”

He hauls you up before throwing you over his shoulder, landing a gentle spank on your ass. 

“Remember when I told you I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t even be able to leave the bed?” Seungcheol prompts as he tosses you onto the mattress. “You better get comfy, honey.”

“I think…” you feel your daring side beginning to surface, eyes dipping to watch Seungcheol’s skilled fingers unbuttoning his dress shirt, “I think I also remember something about you telling me my truth serum interrogation wouldn’t go unpunished.”

The agent pauses, a huge grin spreading across his face. “You’re cute, honey.”

“Yeah?” You reach behind your body, undoing the clasp of your bra and letting it slip to the wayside. “How so?”

Seungcheol’s pupils dilate, his eyes becoming dark, lustful pools. 

He doesn’t bother to answer your question, shrugging his shirt off before leaning over you, his hands pressing into the bed to box you in while his lips find yours. It’s a needy kiss, his tongue gliding out to meet your own, but you don’t mind at all.

You cup his face, moaning against him, fingers teasing over his strong shoulders.

Seungcheol is built, even for an agent. Certain men who work with you have leaner physiques, and Seungcheol is not one of them. He’s all big and broad, with lines of muscle that you could trace for hours if given the chance.

His lips begin to trail down to your throat, and you let out a whimper of anticipation when his breath fans across your pebbled nipples.

However, when he gets to your breasts, Seungcheol avoids sucking on the most sensitive spots. He looks up at you, grinning. “I think it’s time for that punishment now.”

“Yeah?” You can’t help the excitement that bubbles through you.

“I want you on your knees, ass up, and take off your panties while you’re at it.”

You know what’s coming when you follow through with the command. The cool air in the room feels nice on your newly exposed, hot core, and you make a show of everything, arching your back.

You can hear Seungcheol let out a deep breath, his hands ghosting over your ass.

“If this hurts too much, let me know.”

“Do your worst,” you counter, wiggling your hips and resting your face against the bed sheets, exhaling deeply in preparation.

You expect a harsh smack, but instead, Seungcheol presses a soft kiss to your right cheek. “I’m punishing you because you took advantage, you know that, right?”

“Uh huh, part of me knew I was being bad interrogating you while you were truth-serumed, but part of me needed to know what your answers would be.”

“Between us, I’m glad you asked the questions you did, or you might not be in my bed right now.”

“I’m glad too,” you confess. “Now, come on Angel Eyes, punish me.”

“I love a woman who takes what she deserves with grace.”

“After this, I deserve your cock.”

“Do you now?” Seungcheol lets out an amused chuckle, grabbing your ass with both hands and squeezing. 

“Maybe you deserve my pussy,” you muse thoughtfully.

“Now that’s something I can definitely get behind,” he agrees. “Count these out for me, honey, I’ll give you ten.”

The first smack makes you recoil in surprise, the sound flooding your senses before the sharp pain that blossoms across your skin.

“One,” you announce, balling your hands into the bed sheets.

“How did that feel?” he asks, gently smoothing his palm across the still-burning flesh.

“Good.”

The next hit is a little harder and it makes you whimper,  but you do your best to stay steady, unmoving, ready to take what you deserve. “Two.”

Three and four come on your other cheek, and you’re thankful for the reprieve, but smack number five returns to the first side he’d battered, and it stings even more now. However, it’s a pleasantly hot sensation, and your core throbs knowing you’re halfway through your punishment, all the more close to your reward.

“You look like you’re enjoying this too much,” Seungcheol muses, groping your ass again, squeezing hard enough to hurt.

“Maybe I am,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder at the agent. 

He grins down at you, lifting a hand- your body flinches involuntarily, and Seungcheol’s smile widens. “Getting sensitive already, huh?”

“Yes,” you admit.

The next slap lands on your pussy, something you hadn’t been expecting, and a squeal of delight erupts out of you at the sensation on your clit.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Seungcheol asks.

“Uh huh,” you nod, clenching the bed sheets even tighter.

“How's your clit feeling after one orgasm?” he prompts, thumb finding the sensitive bud and rubbing it in small circles.

“Feels so good,” you whimper.

“You’re practically dripping, honey, didn’t take you for a pain slut.”

“Be nice,” you chastise him.

“Oh?” 

Another smack lands on your ass and you dutifully call out “Six.” 

“You don’t like being called a little pain slut?” he asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “Please call me nice things.”

“Okay, honey, I can do that,” he concedes, and the next spank isn’t as hard as the last. “You’re being so good for me. We’re almost done.”

“Can’t wait for you to fuck me, I’ve been waiting so long-”

“We’ll get there,” Seungcheol promises, leaning down to press a kiss to your lower back. When he pulls away, number “Eight” comes quickly thereafter.

Your skin is buzzing with anticipation now, and you’re nearly writhing against the bed, but you do your best to be as still as possible while Seungcheol completes this punishment focused foreplay.

After smack number nine, you hear Seungcheol undo his belt, and it takes everything inside of you not to turn around and get a good look at his cock.

He smacks his length gently against your ass, and you let out a small, “Ten?”

He laughs. “No, honey, this is ten.”

The sound of the slap echoes through his room, the hardest of them all so far, and you release a strangled cry, your ass on fire from where he’d hit you.

“That was the pain, now here’s the pleasure.” He rubs his cock through your wet folds, and slips the tip inside, stretching you out wonderfully. The sensation distracts from your sore bum, and your whimper becomes a moan as he drives deeper and deeper into you. “Tell me you like it.”

“I love it,” you blurt, already pushing back toward him in an effort to feel everything.

You’re not sure how big he is, only that he’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, but after the tension of your punishment, and the orgasm before that, your pussy greedily swallows up everything he has to give until he’s flush to your still stinging ass.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol cusses, gently grabbing at your hips. “How’s that feel?”

“I feel so full,” you tell him, pussy fluttering around his cock.

“I’ll make you feel fuller,” he promises.

“Yeah?”

“You’re on birth control?”

“Uh huh.”

“Then I’ll definitely fill you up, mark this pussy as all mine, are you okay with that?”

“More than okay with it,” you moan. 

“That’s my good girl,” Seungcheol praises you, beginning to thrust.

“Fuck-” you whimper, loving the feeling of his cock dragging along your inner walls. 

Your eyes are closed, your focus entirely on Seungcheol as he starts to fuck you, rougher and rougher until his balls are slapping against your clit with each motion.

“Your pussy feels so good,” he tells you, grip tightening on your hips. “It’s like you were made for me, honey.”

The idea causes a visceral reaction, your entire body thrumming with pleasure. You can only moan in response, beginning to move back so you can meet each one of his thrusts.

“And this ass-” One of Seungcheol’s hands moves to cup your sensitive flesh, making you groan even louder. “Fucking perfect. Rub your clit for me, want you to cum again.”

Your hand is shaky as you bring it between your legs, finding your sensitive clit. Your core clenches desperately around Seungcheol and he lets out a deep moan of appreciation.

“That’s my good girl, being so good for me. So good at taking orders.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh. It’s as if things were always meant to be this way, you were meant to let him be in control, not the other way around. This feels so much more natural than you telling him what to do ever did.

“Don’t laugh,” Seungcheol chastises you, fucking you even harder. “I’m trying to be nice to you, like you wanted.”

“I just-” you groan when his cock slams into your gspot. “It was never supposed to be me telling you what to do.”

“I’m glad we agree on something,” Seungcheol muses, his motions slowing ever so slightly. “Fuck this, I want to see you.”

He pulls out of your pussy, flipping you onto your back. The contact of the bed against your ass makes you groan, but the sight of Seungcheol’s perfect body looming over you has you distracted less than a moment later.

His cock is big… cut, curving slightly to the left, with a prominent vein that you want to trace with your tongue-

He presses the head of his length to your pussy, easing himself into you while he positions you in missionary. When he’s fully inside of you again, he meets your gaze, then he looks down at your lips.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he whispers before pressing his mouth to yours.

You grab at his strong shoulders, getting lost in the kiss as he begins to fuck you again, the whole bed shaking with the power of his thrusts.

You’ve never made sounds like this in bed before. You’re moaning like a whore, but Seungcheol eats up every whimper, his tongue gliding against your own.

Your fingers thread through his hair, keeping him close as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge.

The agent pulls away, breathing heavily. “I can feel you clenching, honey, gonna cum again?”

“Gonna cum on your big cock,” you tell him.

“Yeah?”

One of his hands slips between your bodies, fingers applying pressure to your clit.

You whimper loudly, back arching off the bed. Seungcheol takes the opportunity to finally draw your nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing over the sensitive bud.

You gasp, body on fire from all the wonderful sensations. “I’m so close-” you tell him.

“Then cum for me,” he murmurs, rubbing your clit even harder. “Cum on my cock.”

It only takes a few more seconds for you to follow through with his command, the cord snapping in your stomach as your release takes over. Your pussy clamps down on Seungcheol, and when he lets out a groan, you know your body is milking him for every drop of cum that he has.

His thrusts have become sloppier, more erratic, deeper- and each one has him kissing your cervix, which is a delightful feeling. 

You hold him to your breast through your high, and he diligently sucks on your nipple, fucking you until he can’t fuck you anymore.

Finally, Seungcheol slumps down against you, applying some of his weight over you like a weighted blanket.

He’s panting hard against your breasts, cheek pressed to the center of your chest.

“Your heart is going wild, honey,” he muses after a moment.

All you can do is laugh, unable to find the words just yet after the power of your release.

Instead, you stroke his hair, and Seungcheol lets out a murmured moan, nuzzling closer to you. “I do love you, you know.”

“I know.”

He chuckles. “You aren’t going to say it back?”

“Take me on a date first,” you tease.

“Tomorrow, if you can still walk, I’ll take you out.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He presses a kiss to your sternum. “If you can’t walk, I’ll bring the date to you.”

“How romantic,” you say sarcastically.

“Don’t start with me, honey,” he warns.

“I’m not starting anything,” you defend yourself with a giggle.

He looks up at you, eyes sparkling. “Sure you’re not.”

You lean down to kiss him gently, loving how domestic this whole thing has turned. But of course, ever the sex fiend, Seungcheol quickly ruins it. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll fuck you again.”

You can’t help but shake your head. “You promise?”

“If you’re going to talk back like this, make it five.”

He’s such a fuck, but you kind of love him.

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I know recently I've been doing a lot of short and sweet fics, hoping for a longer one next month :)

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🔮 preview. “We tried letting you be in control,” he responds, pushing your legs together as he straddles you from behind. “It wasn’t as fun as me being in control though."

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, dom/sub themes, powerplays, Seungcheol tries to be a little submissive, he’s not great at following directions, dirty talk, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, blow job, mention of deep throating, nipple play/nipple pinching, creamipie, cumming together, etc…   I petnames. (hers) honey

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 175

🌙 starring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader

bonus

“Hey, big guy,” you grin as you enter the apartment, eyes finding Seungcheol sitting on the living room couch. “How was your day?”

He pauses his show to look at you, flashing a tired smile. “It was okay.”

“Yikes,” you immediately go to join him on the couch, cuddling up to his side. “The new handler still being a bit of a dick?”

“Joshua was hand-picked by Jeonghan, it’s not like I can do anything about it,” Seungcheol sighs. “How about you, still enjoying the wizz kid?”

“Dino’s a good one,” you insist. “He follows instruction very well.”

Seungcheol scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“You still jealous that I’m in his ear and not yours?” you tease, poking your boyfriend’s chest.

“Don’t go there, honey,” he warns.

“Come on- it could be fun. I think having someone who listens well has built my confidence… you know, we could try it out a little, if you want.”

“You want me to be submissive?” Seungcheol’s brows raise in a sort of shocked amusement. “Not a chance in hell.”

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[sunsburns]

four or five moments (ii.)

pairing: wade wilson/deadpool x fem!assassin!reader

summary: you're literally just trying to do your job, and it's going great so far, you've killed trask, all you have left is to stop that truck from leaving new york. few problems: deadpool can't stay dead, you're having a moral dilemma and why is that car getting closer? oh shit-!

—or: deadpool literally hits you with a car

word count: 4k+

warnings: fem reader, wade being nasty, flirting, sex jokes, canon violence, there isn't too much plot, blood, strange conversations about morality, wade being annoying, he also breaks the fourth wall a few times, i did not pre-read this pls bare with spelling mistakes

notes: i was peer pressured to write this. it literally strays off from the og plot so bad you get whiplash!!

part one

All you really need is four or five moments.

Four or five moments to prove that you're better than them, that you wouldn't stoop as low, to prove that an eye for an eye will only leave two people blind. No blood will bring mercy. No. But it might get you some peace of mind knowing that they can't hurt you anymore, knowing that there's one less asshole on the earth that's trying to hurt you and the people you care about. It is heartless, you're well aware, but you are not trained to have much of a heart, much less to care.

You remind yourself of that fact as lights blur into neon streaks and speeding vehicles race by. Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline sharpening your senses, and the stab wound on your leg becomes a distant throb.

You leap onto a motorcycle conveniently left unattended by a fleeing warehouse worker, hot-wiring it with practiced ease. The engine roars to life, and you peel out onto the road, weaving through traffic. The bike vibrates beneath you, a sleek, powerful beast responding to your every command.

Behind you, Deadpool is a persistent shadow. You catch glimpses of his red suit and mask as he commandeers a car, recklessly swerving through lanes to catch up to you. His determination is infuriating, but you can't afford to be distracted. You grit your teeth, focusing on the chase.

Your earpiece crackles to life, and a familiar voice comes through. "I've got eyes on your tracker," your handler says. "They're heading towards the docks. Be careful; we don't know if it's a set-up."

"Understood," you reply, voice steady despite the chaos.

As you near the docks, the industrial landscape looms ahead, a labyrinth of shipping containers and cranes casting long shadows in the dim light. The truck is just ahead, its taillights glowing like beacons.

You accelerate closer, and with one hand, you grab an energy gun, in a quick movement, you shoot at the truck doors, immediately regaining your grip on the handle afterwards. The doors fly open, revealing giant metal scraps and wooden crates.

You nearly curse, swerving out of the way when a pipe tumbles out from the back of the truck, crashing onto the road. The clang of metal on asphalt echoes in your ears. You slow down by the truck's blind spot, knowing you'd have to stop it, especially now that the cargo was confirmed to be in it.

You stay ready with your gun, pulling it from the holster on your thigh. You wait a beat, then another, and as the truck starts to pick up speed, you make your move and roll up to the driver's window, shooting through the glass. The bullet flies through the driver's head, causing him to slump forward, pressing on the horn. The blaring sound drowns out your second shot, which takes down the man in the passenger seat before he can shoot you.

The truck starts to slow, veering erratically before it crashes into a building with a deafening crunch of metal and shattering glass. The impact takes down a few light posts and parked cars, sending debris flying. Broken electrical wires dance and crackle around the wreck, their sparks reflected in the spray of a burst fire hydrant.

"Great job," your handler's voice crackles through your comms. "Dispose of the truck. No witnesses—"

The connection cuts off as you are violently hit from the side by a black car. The force of the impact sends you flying off your bike, tumbling across the rough asphalt. Your suit and helmet take most of the fall, tearing and cracking under the friction. Your visor shatters, the protective plastic lining breaking at the base.

You feel the sting and burn of broken skin on your arms and legs, grime and dirt mixing with the blood seeping from your cuts. Your vision is blurred, and a high-pitched ringing fills your ears. Every breath you take is shallow and painful, your ribs protesting with each inhale. Biting the inside of your cheek, you push yourself to pull off your broken helmet, tossing it aside. You blink hard, trying to focus your vision and spot a figure approaching.

Through the haze of pain and confusion, you recognize the distinctive red and black suit. Deadpool. He strides towards you with casual confidence, katana in hand, his eyes hidden behind the mask but undoubtedly filled with a mix of amusement and determination. The streetlights cast eerie shadows on his suit, highlighting the dried blood and grime.

"Please, don't be mad, honeybuns." Deadpool's irritating voice is the first thing you can hear when the ringing stops. He's standing before you, gloved hands out for you to take.

You don't move, heaving, "What the fuck, Wade?"

"Oh, are we on a first-name basis now? I think I like it." Wade Wilson hums, and when you still don't take his hands, he kneels before you. The smell of sweat and gunpowder wafts off him, mingling with the metallic scent of blood. "I know this all seems a little confusing—"

"You hit me with a fucking car, you dick!" you belt out, eyes wide with rage. The pain and exhaustion make your voice hoarse, every word a struggle.

"Well, yes. But it's only fair—"

"Fuck you."

"Listen to me." He says a little desperately, and you're glaring at him through your tears. Wade doesn't let it get to him, instead, he calls out your name, barely above a whisper as he looks at you. "You are getting innocent people killed." He tells you. "Look around. This might not be a cul-de-sac, but there are civilians, and they're hurt. We need to leave. You need to call it."

You glance over his shoulder, tired eyes scanning the area. He was right. Dock workers are running around, shouting and helping people out of the old building the truck had crashed into. It's late at night, but not late enough for the place to be deserted; people are still at work, still trying to get by.

You wince as you watch a pregnant woman being led out of a crashed car by her husband, a gash on her head. The smell of gasoline and burning rubber fills the air, mixing with the acrid scent of smoke from the crashed truck.

"Killing shitty people is one thing," Deadpool tells you, and you hate the way his voice is almost earnest. His tone is different, more serious, a stark contrast to his usual unserious demeanour. "But I'm familiar with your no-witnesses rule. This would just be mass murder if I let you keep going. Not exactly my piece of cake. Just..."

He stops, letting his head hang for a moment as if he were too repulsed to say it. You can see his shoulders slump slightly, a rare show of genuine emotion. "Oh god, I can't believe I'm about to say this," he grumbles, "Four or five moments. That's all it takes. Just stop and think. It's all it takes to be a hero."

You grit your teeth, hating that Wade Wilson is your voice of reason. The biggest asshole in New York, and here he is lecturing you on morality.

Hairs are falling out of your braid and sticking to your forehead, yet you don't care. Sweat mixes with blood, creating a sticky mess on your skin. You can only glare at him. "You're the last fucking person who should be telling me how to be a hero."

Wade sighs, loud and obnoxious, his mask wrinkling around his eyes as he scrunches up his face. "I'm sorry I hit you with a car. You kinda deserved it after killing Trask. He was my last chance at becoming pretty again. Now I have to stalk another crazy scientist." He taps his chin thoughtfully, "I always figured I'd end up chasing a mad scientist again, but not under these circumstances."

It's when you can no longer hold yourself up with your arms that Wade takes in the gravity of your injuries. He winces, watching you crumble to the ground before him. "Oh, wow, that's a lot of blood," he notes, his voice suddenly devoid of humour. The sight of your blood pooling on the asphalt seems to pull him back to reality. "Should I take you to a hospital? How many fingers am I holding up?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"Three? No. Two? Yikes. It's worse than I thought." Wade stands, and the worry in his voice is poorly masked by his usual sarcasm. "Here we go. Up, up!" When he moves to pick you up, you start turning away, your body protesting every movement.

"Wade, wait—" you rasp, trying to stop him from touching you. Your voice is weak, barely above a whisper.

But it's too late. When he reaches for you, your body phases, a faint white glow surrounding you as his hands and arms fall through your body as if you're a ghost. He recoils, jumping back while a squeamish sound escapes his lips. He stares at you, then his hands, then back at you on the ground as you try to sit up again, confusion and amazement written all over his masked face.

"Oh. My. Motherfucking. Fuckballs." Wade gasped, eyes wide behind his mask. "Did my hand just go through you or is all that cocaine finally kicking in?"

You ignore him, holding onto your side as it throbs with pain. Every movement sends sharp, agonizing waves through your body. "Fuck."

"No way, you're a fucking mutant?" His tone is a mix of awe and excitement, like a kid discovering a new toy.

It's not like you kept it a secret. You used your abilities whenever you needed to, and sure, it was useful at times, especially in your line of work when you needed to get through locked doors and hidden rooms or just for the element of surprise. But it's draining. Leaves you winded after only a matter of seconds. You've always had a hard time controlling it when you're slightly delusional though. You must've hit your head really hard. Maybe that's why you haven't shot Deadpool, yet.

"Shut up, Wade."

"Hey, no need to be ashamed of it." He reassures you while trying to pick you up again. This time, he is more cautious, his movements slower and more deliberate. When he succeeds, you can tell he's grinning like a child underneath the mask.

He carries you back to the same fuckass car he hit you with, holding you with one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. There's a faint skip to his step as if you're not on the verge of losing consciousness. While kicking open the back door, Wade continues his chatter, and you really wish he'd killed you on impact.

"Being a mutant is great! Plus, it's not the early two thousands anymore, or whatever timeline Stewart was in. Man, they sure did hate mutants in that trilogy."

He sets you down in the back seat gently, his hands surprisingly delicate. "You know, I always knew you were different. You hit me harder than regular people. I just figured you really hated me."

"I do." you mutter.

"Oh, my little sweet buns, I'm sure you do." To your annoyance, he pokes your nose playfully. "But you can't hate me too much right now, I'm literally your knight in shining armor. See, I can be nice, especially to my fellow mercs. You'd bleed to death if I left you there."

"Only because you hit me with a fucking car," you snap, the pain and frustration boiling over.

"Good to know you're still harboring great anger towards that. Means you're still conscious. Keep being mean to me, baby, that's how I'll know you're okay." He pauses before shutting the door, looking at you lying on the backseat, bleeding and all the glory that comes from it. "And it also turns me on a little bit. God, I can't believe your suit is torn and not one bit of extra cleavage is exposed. What will it take for a guy to get some rated R nudity over here?"

And with that, he slams the door shut, the car shaking with the force of it. The sound makes the ringing return to your ears, and you bite back the urge to curse him. He takes a seat in the driver's seat, starting the engine and rushing out of the scene before first responders arrive. The car roars to life, and as he speeds away, you feel your consciousness slipping, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you.

The two of you sit in silence for the most part, only the sounds of the engine running and Wade humming the tune of a song you think is from The Greatest Showman soundtrack. You force yourself to stay awake. Mostly because you don't trust him, but it's also because you fear that if you let your eyes close you won't wake up again. Yeah, it's mostly because you don't trust Wade Wilson.

"Where are you taking me?" you finally ask, and you hate the way your voice sounds weak, barely above a whisper.

"Just a little safe house I know." He tells you, glancing back at you for a quick moment. "Very homey, trust me."

"What about the shipment?" you murmur, your mind struggling to stay focused.

"What?"

"The truck," you repeat, fighting to keep your eyes open.

"Oh, don't worry. That's no longer our problem." He says, "We're about to enter a whole new setting. That truck is forgotten plot."

Wade takes a sharp turn, and you wince as your body shifts uncomfortably in the back seat. The pain is getting worse, each bump in the road sending jolts of agony through your body. You grit your teeth, trying to stay conscious, but it's a losing battle.

After what feels like an eternity, the car finally comes to a stop. Wade gets out and you hear his footsteps crunching on gravel as he walks around to your door. He opens it carefully this time, his usual wiseass demeanour replaced by a rare show of genuine concern. He scoops you up gently, and you're too weak to protest.

The last thing you remember, before everything goes black, is the sight of a grand mansion looming ahead, its imposing silhouette framed by the moonlight. The large iron gates creak open as Wade carries you through them, the gravel path crunching under his boots. The mansion, with its towering spires and Gothic architecture, looks like something out of a fairy tale, a stark contrast to the violence and chaos you just escaped from.

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is the softness of the bed beneath you. The second thing you notice is the smell of lavender and the faint hum of medical equipment. You try to sit up, but a sharp pain in your side makes you gasp.

"Whoa, easy there," a deep, accented voice says from beside you. You turn your head slowly, the motion making your vision swim. A towering, metal-skinned mutant sits by your bed, his imposing figure softened by a look of genuine concern. "You need to rest. You are badly injured."

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you rasp, "Where am I?"

"The X-Mansion," he replies in a soothing tone, the accent heavy but comforting. "Wade brought you here. You’re safe now. I am Colossus."

You try to take in your surroundings, your head feeling heavy as you look around. The room is vast and elegant, with high ceilings that seem to reach the heavens. The walls are adorned with rich tapestries and framed paintings, depicting serene landscapes and grand historical scenes.

Large windows let in the soft, golden glow of morning light, casting gentle shadows that dance across the floor. It’s a far cry from the dingy, rundown places you’re used to, especially that old apartment with its creaky floors and peeling wallpaper.

Your eyes finally land on Wade, who is slouched in a chair in the corner. He’s flipping through a Playboy magazine with exaggerated interest, still in his dirty suit from the night before.

When he sees you stir, he grins and waves a hand in your direction. "Morning, sunshine," he says cheerfully, his voice carrying an unnerving mix of sincerity and teasing. "You gave us quite a scare. But, I've got to say, that hospital gown is doing wonders for your figure. I love the blue. Great contrast to that black you're always wearing."

You roll your eyes, too exhausted to respond properly. The gown feels scratchy against your skin, and every movement sends sharp pangs of pain through your body.

Colossus, noticing your discomfort, shifts slightly. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice deep and steady.

"Like I got hit by a truck," you mutter, sending a glare in Wade's direction.

Colossus chuckles, the sound deep and resonant, like rolling thunder. "Do not worry about him. We will take care of you."

Despite the throbbing pain and overwhelming fatigue, a wave of relief washes over you. For the first time in a long while, you're surrounded by people who genuinely want to help. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the softness of the bed. "Thank you," you whisper, the words feeling strangely comforting. For once, you don’t feel the need to be constantly on guard.

Wade's grin widens as he leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out and adjusting his mask. "Anytime, honeybuns. Anytime."

As you drift in and out of consciousness, you feel the cool, soothing touch of a wet cloth on your forehead. The gentle pressure is a welcome contrast to the persistent throbbing pain.

The sound of soft murmurs and quiet footsteps fills the room, creating a cocoon of calm around you. At some point, you notice Colossus's massive hands, surprisingly gentle, as he carefully tends to your wounds, applying bandages with precision.

Eventually, a teenager with short hair and a no-nonsense expression enters the room. You learn her name is Negasonic Teenage Warhead. She carries a phone in one hand, handing Colossus a stack of clean bandages with the other. The faint scent of antiseptic and medicinal herbs fills the air, mixing with the crispness of the freshly laundered bed linens.

Hours pass, or maybe it's days—it's difficult to gauge. When you next wake, the room is dimly lit, the golden light replaced by the softer hues of early evening. The pain has dulled to a manageable throb, and the heaviness in your limbs is slightly alleviated. Wade is still there, his previous outfit swapped for sweatpants and a dark green sweater, though he keeps his red and black mask on. He lounges in the chair beside your bed, now engrossed in an iPad, giggling softly to himself.

"Oh, man. Instagram reels are crazy," he snorts, shaking his head as he scrolls through the screen.

He looks up and hums when he sees you're awake again. "You're tougher than you look," he comments, turning off the iPad with a flick of his wrist. "Most people would have keeled over by now."

"You wish."

"Oh, trust me, I do." Wade nods vigorously, his mask bobbing with the motion. "I tried injecting poison into your IV, but your body rejected it."

"Don't worry. My handler will kill me for you."

Wade groans, dramatically rolling his eyes as he gets up from the chair. "You’re still worried about that? I already told you, the truck and all that shit is past plot. We’re in the sequel now, babe. There are new rules. Who knows, maybe this is your redemption arc where you join the X-Men. Though, I will miss your assassin era. You were so sexy in that suit."

You make a face, "Fuck off."

Just then, the door opens with a soft creak, and Colossus enters with a tray in hand. He’s followed closely by Negasonic, who carries a stack of fresh bandages. Colossus places the tray on a small table beside your bed with practiced ease. The tray is filled with a bowl of steaming soup and a couple of slices of crusty bread, the aroma wafting up and making your stomach rumble.

"How are you feeling?" Colossus asks, his voice calm and reassuring as he sets the tray down.

"Better," you admit, managing a small smile. "Thanks to you guys."

Negasonic shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her usual scowl. "Don’t mention it. Just doing our job."

Wade groans, clearly troubled by the kindness. "Oh great, now you’re all buddy-buddy. What am I, chopped liver?"

Colossus chuckles, the sound of a comforting rumble. "You must eat something. It will help you regain your strength."

You nod gratefully, and with Colossus’s help, you manage to sit up enough to sip the warm, comforting soup. The broth is rich and flavorful, and the bread is soft and fresh. As you eat, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of belonging. Despite the pain and the chaos, you’re surrounded by people who care, and for now, that’s enough.

Wade, not one to be left out, scoots his chair closer, setting it right next to your bed. He stretches out, propping his elbows on his knees as he leans in. "So, what do you think of the X-Mansion? Pretty swanky, right? Lots of rooms, big kitchen, danger room for training... and other things."

Negasonic scoffs, her eyes narrowing. "Gross."

You finish your meal, feeling a bit stronger. As Colossus helps you settle back into the bed, you glance at Wade. "Why did you bring me here?"

Wade’s expression shifts, becoming uncharacteristically serious. He looks at you with sincerity. "Because you’re one of us. And because... well, everyone deserves a second chance."

You blink, surprised by the depth of his words. Before you can respond, he’s back to his usual self, grinning and turning on his iPad. "Plus, it’s not every day I get to play hero. I gotta milk it for all it’s worth. And no, Colossus, I will not join your boy band, thank you very much."

The metal man grunts, waving a hand dismissively before walking out, Negasonic following right behind him. Wade stays seated next to you, his lips curled into a wide, amused grin that seems to stretch just a bit too far was he watches you.

"You're never gonna take that off?" you ask him.

Wade's laughter is a low, rumbling sound that feels almost too bright for the quiet room. "Oh, no fucking way," he says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m ugly under this. Trust me. You’d be repulsed. Like, horror movie-level repulsed."

You give him a look, your eyebrow arched in disbelief. "I doubt it."

Wade leans in closer, the grin on his face widening. He taps his chin thoughtfully with a gloved finger, the gesture oddly contemplative. "Maybe next time I’ll take it off for you," he says, a taunting tone in his voice as he raises his brows. "Maybe that and a little more."

"There's a next time?"

"I mean, as the famous words of Natasha Bedingfield say: the rest is still underwritten."

"God, you’re fucking ridiculous," you mutter, the words coming out with a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement. "I can’t wait to get out of here and never see you again."

Wade's shoulders slump, the white eyes of his mask narrow at you, "What, that's it? No steamy sex? No heavy petting? Is this how it ends? Not even a kiss?"

"Fuck no. Get out."

reblog to support your writers!

© sunsburns.tumblr 2024. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[toolazytodecide]

Sorry for the ASOUE spam (not really, this whole account is spam) but I am just in awe of these books and all the little details that went into them

[mangoshorthand]

Five Hargreeves Meagalist

I've realised I need to rejig my pinned post, so here we are. Hello, I write aged-up Five Hargreeves smut. Sometimes also not smut. But mostly smut. This is a compendium of my work.

Request status: Closed

One + Twoshots

Not Smut (G-M rated)

Tickle War | Five Hargreeves / GN Reader (Fluff)- Words: 1.5k

Dickhead Sugar Daddy | Five Hargreeves / GN Reader (Angst/Fluff)- Words 2.8k

Two Old Men | Five Hargreeves / GN Reader (Fluff)- Words 3.3k

No Blinking! | Five Hargreeves & 3 y/o daughter (Fluff) Words: 3k

Twelve Feet Away From the Mistletoe Part 1, Part 2 | Five Hargreeves / F Reader (Fluff, angst) Total words: 5.8k

Senseless | Five Hargreeves/ GN Reader 1.3k words, Rated T/M (Angst + steamy)

Strings Attached | Five Hargreeves / F Reader (Steamy angst)- Words: 4.8k

Smut (E rated/18+)

NSFW Alphabet | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader - Words: 2.4k

Two Items of Business | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader/ FReader- Words: 2.1k (kind of a crackfic. Not my best.)

Goddamn Darling | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words: 2.1k

If Tonight Were our Last | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words: 2.4k (mild smut, probably between M+E ratings)

Boy Wonder | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words: 2.7k

Lucky Fucking Pillow | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words: 3k

In Your Hands | Five Hargreeves / GN Reader - Words: 3.1k

The Birthday Boy | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words: 3.8k

Your Desperate Man | Five Hargreeves/ GN Reader- Words 2.8k

Venus and Cupid | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words 4k (inc. fluff, romance, hurt/comfort)

The Birthday Girl | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words 2.8k

The Pandas and the Conservationist Part 1, Part 2 | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader - Words 11.8k.

My Kind of Deli | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader - Words 8k.

Series + Multichapter fics (best read on AO3)

Hard Feelings (E rated/18+) : 6 parts

You're Five's latest assassination target, but things don't go to plan and now he wants you as his fuckbuddy. What starts as a casual relationship soon comes to mean everything to him, but what can Five bring to a relationship? After 45 years alone, (or almost alone), how do you rebuild your understanding of partnership? Five has to listen, learn and face the future as well as his past. READ ON AO3 READ ON TUMBLR

The Neurosis of Five Hargreeves (M/E rated): 2 Parts

Covering Five's readjustment to society post season 3. This series uses prose, monologues, transcripts, and case notes to explore Five's mental health demons, delusions, and recovery from decades of apocalypse trauma.

Not canon compliant. In this household, season 4 never happened.

READ HERE

The Moth and The Spider (E Rated): Please heed tags.

Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was the fear, or maybe some sick, twisted part of him was titillated. Even looking back, he never knew. In the dark of nights years in the future, he couldn’t help linking how it turned out to this one mistake. Perhaps if he’d fought her just a little longer, it might never have turned into what it did- perhaps it would never have gone beyond that first night. In fact, it seemed likely: that’s how he knew it was all his fault really.

The Handler knows Five will be a difficult agent to control, but she also knows how to exploit his weaknesses.

READ HERE

Headcanons

Usually based on Tumblr asks:

SFW headcanons because I am capable of them y'know

Cooking

'Not like other girls' girls

Five hates himself

Five as the father of a son

S4 speculation

My dreams for Five in S4 (boy, was I disappointed)

Why Five's favourite word is "shit!"

What would Five look for in a partner?

Would Five be ok with not having kids?

A guide to flirting with Five

Five and Wordle

What did Five do in the apocalypse? (mention of masturbation- not graphic)

Five's enjoyment of murder

S/O stealing Five's jackets.

NSFW headcanons ah, safely back in my lane

NSFW alphabet

Five's relationship with the Handler (triggering content)

Five with a menstruating S/O (NSFW only because references sex)

Five + submissive pillow princess

Hargreeves brothers sharing sex tips

Five and flirtatious jokes (mild)

Mannequin banging: part 1 , part 2

Apocalypse sadwanks

Five eats pussy like a madman

[lowkeyrobin]

hi omg!! i just wanna say i love your tmr writing sm!??! but i recently got back into my tua phase so i was wondering if i could request a five x reader fic?

so five meets reader a few years into the apocalypse. reader survived bc they were one of the 43 kids w/ powers but never adopted into tua (i read this wanda!reader fic and those powers were super cool but again whatever you wanna do!!) they survive those 45 years together and join the commission as partners and five takes them back to 2019 with him!? feel free to do this any way you like, maybe even just one part of it but its just an idea i had!!

omg thank you!!! 🫶 ; and yes of course I love this!!!!! ; thank you for requesting, hope u enjoy!

FIVE HARGREEVES ; back to the future

summary ; you meet five, work for the commission, and end up going to 2019 with him to help him save his siblings

warnings ; language, guns/gun violence, sexual innuendos/jokes but I didn't mean for it to be? like idk, how do old people make out 😭

word count ; 1.3k

masterlist

You were immediately compelled by Five Hargreeves the second he stepped into the Commission building. Your eyes were set on him.

He was around what, 58, when you met him? Mentally, at least. You were just the same, old and wrinkly, traveling across the universe of time to keep shit collected.

You quickly learned that he was also born on October 1st, 1989, brought into the world with powers just like you.

He could blink, or teleport, and travel through time with enough given energy. You, on the other hand, harvested telekinesis and energy manipulation.

You were assigned to be partners rather quickly, considering you were both highly powerful and trained assassins. Five wasn't very fond of you at first, clearly having some trouble he needed to work through, which you wouldn't prod him about. Obviously, you kept your distance to not bother him, but made some mental notes about what you'd seen and learned from him.

After a while, he grew more fond of you, but was still clearly struggling with some stuff.

"Five, watch out!"

"Wh-"

You quickly shove him to the side, your hands glowing a pulsing red as you use your telekinesis to throw the enemy soldiers to the side, protecting your partner. They grunt as their heads split open against the pavement, having been thrown by your unforseen abilities.

Five, a hand holding his fedora down, looks up at you in awe. This is the first time he's seen you use your powers, and damn, did you look badass. He merely watches from the sidelines, hearts in his old eyes.

As the men pick themselves up, they rush toward you one by one like this was the WWE or something. You throw the first one away again using your powers, ironically into a large dumpster that closes as he hits the bottom at such force and speed. The two in the back you distract by popping the glass on the lamp posts, one shard hitting one in the eye.

The next who approaches you, you use your hands to take down, strategically placing multiple punches in his face. The last, who wasn't struck by a large chunk of glass in the eyeball, shoots at you. Five, taking notice much before you, quickly blips to you, grabs you, then blips a few feet away to protect you.

You use your telekinesis to grab a hold of his gun, then use it against him, the loud pop silencing the alleyway. You deactivate your powers and turn back to Five, throwing the gun down.

"Thanks"

He nods. "That was cool"

"Complimenting me? Since when?"

"Since now"

It wasn't until you went back to 1989 to help the Handler retrieve another powered kid that you had a deep talk. It was at a bar afterward, the two of you drowning out the deep mental toll all the killing had taken on you.

Five would never admit it, but it had an effect on him, you just showed it more. Having grown up in different environments, you expressed emotions differently.

You sit at the bar, sipping on champagne, dressed in suits like businessmen. Even at two in the morning, you looked prim and proper, with the exception of tired eyes.

"Does it ever get to you?" You ask, "Not just killing, but everything we have to do for the Commission"

He nods. "Yeah." He begins to ramble, being drunk out of his mind as he'd been taste testing damn near every drink the bar had. "Sometimes I wonder what ever happened to my family, if they're okay in the future."

"What do you mean?" You question, never having heard much about his past.

He looks down for a moment before taking another sip of his beverage. "My father adopted seven of us, kids born with powers. We lived together, were trained, and used to fight off evil." He scoffs, "I tried to show him I was powerful enough to do time jumps and ended up stranded in the apocalypse. I was alone for years, and then the Handler found me. I don't know how it started or anything, but I've been attempting to find the correct equation to travel back enough time before it happened to stop it."

You blink, processing the information he just rambled out. "Damn, I'm sorry"

He nods, "I should be able to do it soon, on that next order to kill JFK."

"What about the Handler? What about me? I don't wanna snitch on you or rat you out, I mean-"

He shakes his head. "You'll come back with me."

"What?"

Silence blankets you for a few moments.

"I could use you. Whether it be opening a hole in the space time continuum large enough for both of us or needing you and your powers to stop said apocalypse, you could be useful. You've proven to be so."

You nod again. "Hm"

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

You shrug. "Interesting that you thought of bringing me along in the first place."

"You're smart, you think and process quickly. Your powers could easily outmatch even most of my siblings, even without, your hand to hand combat is brilliant. You're even smarter than me, sometimes"

You bite your tongue, attempting to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Well thanks, Hargreeves"

"It's the truth, Y/n"

"Don't try and flatter me, I have a big ego"

He did, in fact, flatter you, maybe a little too much at that. God forbid that hotel with one bed that you had to share that night to rest before heading back to work. Who knew that old man was so good at romance and kissing? Kinda weird for someone who was stuck in an apocalyptic hell for 40 years.

"Go to bed, Five"

"I'm shocked you're not asking for another kiss"

"Shut the fuck up"

You didn't realize how miserable 1963 really was. From the racism and queerphobia to the overall miserable looking farm life, or maybe it was just Texas. For being so well traveled, you really weren't.

You hide behind a white picket fence with Five, accompanying him to make sure JFK was assassinated. A sniper rifle rests in a case you were carrying for him, the sound of parade music and crowd goers filling your ears.

He looks to you, giving you that sneaky little smile and nod. You set the case down as he does the same with the briefcase, making sure to stay as low as you could beside this parking lot.

You watch as a blue aura squiggles around his hands, another larger hole a few feet in front of him. He stretches it out, creating sparks of lightning, crackles of thunder audible like he was creating a storm to the future. As he gives you the nod, a fire extinguisher lands at your feet, having been thrown through on the other side.

Your furrowed eyebrows are visible to Five, who sighs. You were definitely landing in the right place.

You raise your hands toward the blue storm, a red glow illuminating it as you pull it open further, long enough to settle it, then quickly jump in.

Five grabs your hand, and with one last look, pulls you into the portal back to the future.

You fall to the ground, hair a mess, your suit now too big for your body.

You look up, having landed on your ass next to Five. A group of what you supposed were his siblings, stare at him in awe and confusion. He stands up, brushing the dust from his clothes. He stretches a hand out for you, helping you up from the ground covered in dead leaves.

The siblings, eyes widened and jaws dropped, watch as you both casually walk inside the mansion you landed in the middle of. They were one hundred percent questioning how you were here, where Five had been, and who you were.

But that didn't matter at the moment. What did matter was getting that old man now trapped in his pubescent body some coffee.

[obsesssedblerd]

heyyyy is there lore behind the nicknames in your smaus? 👀 love your work

kinda! they're mostly from drabbles that i'm thinking of starting or finishing up. however, you can interpret these any way you want to since you're technically the main character 🥰

here was what i had from the drabbles. [note: toji and choso mostly go by baby for now, but there will be special nicknames from them later once i figure something out.]

- when you were a transfer to jujutsu tech in tokyo as a teacher, satoru called you 'pretty girl' during arguments to fluster you. he loved your reaction, and never missed an opportunity to playfully tease you. he keeps the nickname when you two start dating, because duh, you're very pretty.

- suguru calls you 'angel' because you met him when he was at his lowest point mentally. he felt like he'd never win against the loud, horrible thoughts in his head. then you came along. you helped him with nanako and mimiko, and you listened to him when he finally, finally opened up to you. you saved him. you're his gift. his angel.

- nanami called you 'sweetheart' once to keep you awake after a mission had gone horribly wrong and you were moments away from passing out due to your injuries. a simple nickname, but you finally saw for yourself how much you meant to the serious, 7:3 sorcerer. each time he calls you it, you remember how soft his eyes were that day.

- shiu calls you 'princess' because of the way you always, always get what you want. it started as a small joke because he, your handler, takes you around so you can complete your jobs with toji. even before you two started dating, he was spoiling the hell out of you, lol. princesses get taken care of. he doesn't like you handling anything when he's around.

- sukuna calls you 'petal' after your first meeting, which was in battle. there was fire, destruction, blood, then you, standing out and looking so pretty. a strong, powerful fighter, yet so delicate, like a rare flower he just had to have. he couldn't just kill you, that would be a waste. nope, you're joining him.

[roosterr]

whatchya got, boy?

note: requested by @wetsocksinbed :D this fic came to me in a prophetic vision as soon as i read that ask, all i have to say is i was cackling maniacally while writing it. bon apetit.

pairing: john 'soap's mactavish x gn!reader

wc: 4.4k

summary: soap is scared of dogs, you're a k9 handler. your dog is good at finding bodies, he doesn't ever want him to have to find yours.

warnings: angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence

ao3

soap has never liked dogs.

when people ask him why, he tells them that it's just how he is. he wasn't bitten by one, it's not a trauma response, he just doesn't like them, plain and simple. being in the military and having a phobia of dogs is like painting a giant red target on his forehead, so in the interest of not getting relentlessly made fun of, he keeps it to himself.

until recently, it hasn't been a problem.

then you came along, with your quick wit and charming smile, and he was a goner from the moment you first met.

price had given them your files, told them you and your partner are on loan to the one-four-one for the next few months while they track down a particularly slippery target. the term partner had initially disappointed soap, but then you'd both marched into the room with your heads held high, and he realised;

oh. your partner is a dog.

a german shepherd, to be precise. you're a canine handler, like the universe is playing a trick on him – he hasn't been genuinely interested in someone in god knows how long, and when he finally finds somebody, you're accompanied at all hours by one of the few things he fears.

he's about ready to give up on pursuing you before the briefing is even over, but as the others all stand and file out of the meeting room, your partner comes bounding up to him in all his fanged, furry glory and soap almost has a heart attack.

"he doesn't usually trust strangers," you told him as your dog sits at his feet and wags his tail so hard it might be at risk of dislocation. johnny’s moments away from bolting, the fear climbing up his nerves like constricting vines.

"lucky me, eh?" he smiles at you, which was honestly more like a grimace, but somehow you're not offended by his obvious dislike of your partner. you let out a laugh, and the sound is so melodic he almost forgets about the beast waiting at his heel.

"you can pet him," you grin knowingly, and soap gets the sinking feeling you've figured him out already, "he doesn't bite – not unless i tell him to."

"cheers, but i'll pass…" johnny attempts to protest, in the motion of taking a step back, but you grab his hand before he can escape and drag it down to your dog's face with an amused grin.

"his name's rex." he hears you say, but the way your dog is sniffing at his hand has every muscle in his body tensing involuntarily. he's mortified that you're seeing him react like this, he already knows he'll never be able to live this down once the others find out.

when rex chuffs and starts to lick at his hand, johnny feels like his soul might leave his body. the sharp teeth so close to his skin is so unnerving, the only thing stopping him from making a run for it is your soft grip still around his wrist.

he looks to you for help, but you're watching him with a mischievous grin that sends his heart aflutter.

"see? that wasn't so bad." you chuckle, crouching down next to your dog and thankfully taking rex's attention off him. johnny breathes a quiet sigh of relief, wiping his wet hand on his trousers as he watches you fuss over the canine.

you're endearing, and johnny has to admit that seeing you coo at rex like he's a baby makes him slightly less terrifying.

"price put you up to this?" he asks, holding back a flinch when rex looks up at the sound of his voice.

"he did." you nod, standing back up and meeting his eyes again. "but rex actually does like you. guess you're just charming like that."

"well, thank god for that…" johnny grumbles, his voice dripping with sarcasm. you laugh again, and with the way his pulse quickens, he can't help but send you a cocky grin. "but what i wanna know is, do you like me?"

"hmm…" you feign indecision with a poorly concealed smirk, tapping a finger on your chin before leaning closer and placing a hand on his bicep. "i may need a little more convincing."

after that, johnny can hardly keep himself away from you. 

whenever you're next to him he's got an arm slung over your shoulder, you’re always talking – texting when you’re apart – and any free time he has is spent following you around base, not unlike rex at your heel.

you ask him if he wants to watch you when you train rex, and initially he tries to say no, because he thinks seeing rex practising attacking people might break whatever spell you've cast that makes him not hate the dog; but you drag him along anyway, and he ends up being glad that you did.

it's fascinating, watching rex sniff a shirt from your hand and track down whoever it belongs to with expert precision. it looks almost like a game to the canine, the way his tail swings back and forth the whole time as he effortlessly completes any task you give him.

he finds the dummies you hide with ease, even when they're buried under piles of boxes and clothes and various other obstacles. johnny actually finds himself respecting the dog, which is shocking since a few weeks ago he never would've been able to handle even being in the same room as one.

you give johnny the treats to feed rex, which makes him nervous all over again when the canine looks up at him with wide eyes and all his sharp teeth on display. it takes some coaxing from you, but eventually he gets comfortable enough to let rex take a treat from his hand. he may not admit it, but the only reason he even lets rex get so close is because you're there. simply your presence gives him the courage, makes him feel secure.

"when this is over," johnny begins, hand twitching under rex's tongue and looking at you with such fondness it feels like his heart is about to burst, "i'll take you out proper, treat you right."

you blink at him, surprised, but not a moment later a wide smile is taking over your face. "i look forward to it, mactavish."

the others, particularly gaz and ghost, give him hell for how infatuated he's become with you, but their teasing doesn't deter him. he likes you, and he doesn't care if everybody knows it; you like him too, and that's all he really cares about.

now, sitting in the heli on the way to what they hope will be the final location for this mission, he was almost disappointed to be done with it. you were only on loan for this mission, so once they have their target, you'd be gone. he was hoping, optimistically, that once everything was said and done he could convince you to stay with the one-four-one. he was sure he could talk price into it, and though it was selfish of him, he just wanted you to stay by his side.

you're sitting next to him in the back of the aircraft, rex between your legs with his head resting on your thigh, staring up at johnny with those big brown eyes. without even thinking, he reaches a hand out and ruffles the fur on his head, earning a nudge and an adoring smile from you when he looks over.

"he might like you better than me," you tease, scratching behind rex's ear who was yet to take his eyes off of johnny.

"don't be jealous now, bonnie." he chuckles, returning the nudge to your shoulder. "you can have 'im on weekends."

you grin again and lightly shake your head, taking rex's face in your hands and bending over to press a kiss to the top of his head. "you love me the most, right boy?"

before long, the helicopter is landing and the five of you – plus rex – are following the captain out into the forest. it's cold when they exit the heli, night vision goggles highlighting the terrain through the darkness of the night.

the silence buzzes as you all stalk through the trees. johnny pays more attention to you than he should as you walk beside him, anxiety lighting up his nerves for how this mission will go.

as according to the plan, once the manor is in sight, you all split off into teams of two; him and ghost, price and gaz, and you and rex. he trusted you to do well, like you have been doing for the last few months, but he can't help the way his shoulders tense as he watches you disappear around the corner.

the building is guarded, which was expected of course, but they only had to take down a dozen or so guards until the place was barren.

the corridors were eerily deserted, bathed in a moonlit glow as johnny crept around the manor, following closely behind ghost with both of their heads on a swivel. the radio was quiet, by design for the mission plan, but somehow this time felt different, like they wouldn't hear him if he did call out.

it's the beeping that gives it away. so faint, he almost missed it, but his senses are sharpened like a blade – and as a demolitions specialist, he knows the sound of an explosive when he hears it.

johnny carefully pushes open the door to his right, scanning the room for any movement and finding none, but when his gaze lands on the centre of the room, his pulse skips a beat.

propane canisters, fuse linking them all together, and most concerning, a timer on top blinking at him; two minutes, ticking down with a sickening green glow.

"ghost," he calls, his voice hard and serious as the anxiety builds again, "it's rigged."

ghost steps into the doorway next to him, following johnny's arm as he points to the device.

"fuck." he spits, stepping back and clicking the radio on his vest, but no sound comes out. ghost curses again, looking back to johnny with a tense expression that the sergeant mirrors. "radios aren't workin' either. let's move, c'mon."

there's no room for argument in his tone, marching back the way they came with johnny in tow.

as they emerge back out into the night, price and gaz appear from around the corner, both lifting their goggles and approaching with concern evident on their faces.

"what happened?" price's gaze darts around behind them as he speaks, as if waiting for someone to jump out and attack.

"the place is rigged, we have to go." ghost explains, already moving past them and away from the manor.

the captain nods, gesturing for johnny and gaz to follow as he tries his radio with no luck, just like ghost. the pit of anxiety lingered, getting heavier by the second.

"move it, soap." price commands, a deep frown creasing his brow.

but johnny doesn't move. "hold on, where's k-9?" he asks, a frown of his own pulling his features downwards.

"radios are down, we don't have time to look for 'em." ghost calls over to them, earning a solemn nod from the captain, who tries to move him with a hand on his shoulder.

the radios are down, you have no way of knowing the building is rigged. there's no way johnny's about to leave you on your own in the blind, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did.

"no. i'm not leavin' without 'em." johnny growls, his face morphing into a frown as he brushes off the captain's arm and turns to go back inside.

"they might already be outside." gaz tries to reason, stepping in front of him and blocking him from the doorway. kyle's regretful gaze cuts through him, and there's the distinct feeling that everyone else has already given up on you. "we have to move, mate."

johnny scoffs. "fuck that! i can't just leave 'em!" he hisses, insulted by the very idea of leaving one of their own to fend for themselves. no, that's not how they operate, that's not how he operates.

a flash of anger shoots through him and he's about to shove past gaz, but before he can move, price is yanking him away.

"soap!" he growls, shaking him slightly as he grabs johnny's other arm. "get it together, you are not goin' back in there."

before he can argue, he's being grabbed by ghost and dragged away from the manor with him as the other two jog ahead of them into the treeline. 

"oi!" johnny shouts, struggling in the lieutenants iron grip, but to no avail. ghost practically drags him along as he digs his heels into the dirt, writhing in an attempt to escape and go back for you.

he's desperate, he can't lose you, not before he takes you on that date, he promised, you can't die yet–

johnny blinks, the deep, rumbling boom completely derailing his thoughts and starting a piercing ringing in his ears.

white hot fire bursts from the windows of the manor, showering the surrounding area in shards of glass and debris as the heat escapes the building in waves. 

no.

everything seemed to stop around him. ghost stopped trying to drag him away, the trees stopped blowing in the wind, he almost stopped breathing. the world pauses as the walls of the manor are engulfed in flames.

no.

johnny rips his arm out of ghost's grip and stumbles back towards the manor, his mind floating out of his body.

"no!" johnny wails, ignoring the heat on his face and taking a shaky step over the jagged stone and glass that crunches under his boot, "no! they're still–" his voice breaks, "they're still in there, for fucks sake!"

"johnny!" ghost shouts, grabbing him by the strap on the back of his vest and yanking him sharply away from the blaze. "they're gone." he mutters, purposefully avoiding soap's glassy eyes.

"shut the fuck up!" he cries, thumping his fist against ghost's chest and clawing at the arm holding him back. the tears spill from his eyes hard and fast, constricting his throat and blurring his vision.

he falls to his knees with his head in his hands and ghost lets him, the debris that litters the ground sharp against his flesh, but nothing compared to the pain in his chest.

it wasn't supposed to go like this.

you were supposed to come back, and he was supposed to take you out and give you a perfect date and he'd kiss you at the end of the night and now he'd never get to do any of that because–

you're gone. slipped through his fingers like sand into the ocean.

"c'mon, johnny." he hears ghost mutter, his voice distant even though he's right there, pulling him to stand by his arm. "let's regroup."

he doesn't struggle this time, shaking himself free of his lieutenant's grip and shuffling past him with his head hanging low. if there was a god, he's sure they're laughing at him by now. it all felt like some kind of cruel joke; give him hope by granting him someone to love after all these lonely years, and then rip you out of his arms before he can know the happiness you would bring him.

he and ghost don't get far before he hears the lieutenant stop in his tracks, but he doesn't care to know why, the hollow feeling in his chest won't allow him to.

"the dog…" ghost utters from behind him, an air of disbelief in his monotone voice. johnny freezes, a cold dread travelling up his spine as he hears the unmistakable sound of rex's claws padding towards them.

he turns slowly on his heel, fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

your dog is standing in front of him.

"rex…?" he calls softly, taking in the dust and ash and dirt and blood caked into his rich brown fur, illuminated by the fire still raging. rex barks, tilting his head like he's confused, and johnny falls to his knees again, uncaring for the way the rubble tears through his trousers and his skin. "no, no no no no–"

rex is alone. you're not with him. he doesn't go anywhere without you, and that can only mean one thing.

the confirming thought alone shatters the dam completely.

the sobs wrack his body and johnny gathers rex into his arms, hugging him tightly to his chest, burying his face into his thick fur despite the filth that coats the both of them. he whimpers and whines in johnny's ear, and the sound only makes his heart hurt even more.

a few months ago he never would've dreamed he'd be hugging a dog, but you changed that; you'd helped him work on his fear, and even if rex was the only one he could tolerate, it was still leagues better than what he could accomplish without you.

but now you’re gone, and neither of them have you to fall back on.

johnny sinks his fingers deep into rex's fur, sniffling pathetically because he may have lost you, but your canine lost his entire world and he would never understand where you went, why you left him all alone, why you weren’t coming back.

rex begins to wriggle in his arms, and soap knows he wants him to let go but he can't bring himself to. this dog is all he has left of you now; he would take care of your beloved canine, it doesn't matter if he was still terrified in the back of his mind.

after a painful few minutes, jonny regains the awareness to remember where they are and the fact that ghost is still watching him break down with the dog in his arms. with a trembling sigh, he loosens his hold on rex and pulls back, wiping a dusty hand over his eyes.

as he pushes himself to stand rex barks again, startling johnny with a jolt of panic before bounding back the way he came, away from him and ghost.

johnny frowns. "hey, don't run," he mutters, ambling after the canine as he pads backwards. every time johnny gets close, rex slips just out of reach before he can grab him.

ghost sighs, but allows him to go after the dog, keeping a watchful eye on them as they get further away.

the way he was running along and looking back to make sure johnny was following reminded him a worrying amount of how he acted in his training. the training where you would hide a dummy for him and johnny would reward him with treats when he led you to the fake body.

"no, no rex," except this time, the body wouldn't be fake. "please, boy, just come back…"

rex doesn't react to his pleading, determined to lead him to what johnny knows he’s found, but desperately wants to deny anyway. he tries to stop, to turn back and never have to face the reality of you being gone, but the canine won't let him. he takes johnny's trousers between his razor teeth and growls, deep and threatening, as he tries to pull him along.

the sound makes johnny freeze, fear clawing at the back of his mind as an instinctual reaction, but he blinks hard and pushes through it. "alright, i'm comin'..."

rex lets go once he’s sure he’ll follow again, trotting ahead with the occasional check behind him to make sure johnny was still there. he follows the canine past the rubble, through the treeline, and into the underbrush where the sick feeling in his throat only grows stronger.

he doesn't bother with the night vision goggles. the fire provides enough waving light for him to just about see where he’s going, and he really has no desire to see what rex is guiding him to.

johnny almost trips over him when the canine comes to an abrupt stop, his wide eyes trained on a bush to johnny’s left.

the dread pooling in his stomach becomes suffocating.

"wh…?" he swallows thickly, crouching down to rex's level and placing a hand on his back, feeling his laboured breath that matches his own. "...whatchya got, boy?"

rex barks and noses at the branches of the bush, before stepping backwards a few paces and looking expectantly between johnny and the shrub.

johnny stares at the bush. no amount of training could've prepared him for the terror he feels imagining what he’ll find on the other side of it. as if sensing his hesitation, rex barks again to spur him on, but it only makes his heart sink further.

his hand shakes as he reaches for the branches. there's a stutter in his heartbeat, a hitch in his breath, as he pushes them aside to reveal–

"bleedin' fuckin' jesus–" johnny cries, jumping through the foliage to couch over your weakened form, forgetting his fear all together as he ruffles rex's fur with both hands and a breaking smile when he barks again. "oh good boy rex! good boy, fuckin' hell!"

it's you, blood and ash smeared across your skin and your chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, and johnny's just so happy you're alive he can't think to be afraid when rex snaps at his hands in a misdirected effort to protect you. he presses both hands against the slice in your abdomen, using the few medical supplies in his vest to help stop the bleeding as the tears being to well again.

"shit, stay with me, hun, i've got ye…" he mumbles, putting all his weight onto your stomach. "ghost! help me!"

the rest is a blur.

they carry you to the helicopter, rex barking protectively between their legs the whole way until he can lay on guard between your legs on take off.

when they finally touch down back at base, johnny has to grab rex by the vest so the medics can carry you out, wrestling him away as he barks and whines in protest. johnny stays with the canine while you're in surgery and for the days you're asleep, making sure he's fed and allowing him to sleep in his room so he won’t be alone – despite how uncomfortable it makes him, and how little sleep he gets because of it.

it's four days until you wake up.

he's not the first to find out, but as soon as the words reach his ears he’d racing down the corridors and bursting through the infirmary doors with enough intensity to make you jump out of your skin. the sight of you sitting up and talking to price almost has his eyes watering again, but he pushes that urge down.

he approaches your bed more carefully, a wobbly smile pulling at his lips under your warm gaze. with an understanding look, price is patting him on the shoulder as he passes by and leaving the two of you alone with each other.

"aren't you a sight for sore eyes," johnny grins, taking a seat in the chair next to your bed and grasping your hand in his. a smile lifts your features as he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there as a heat rises in his cheeks.

"i could say the same, my knight in shining armour." you reply, moving your hand to cradle the side of his head and smoothing your thumb over his brow. he revels in the contact, the tension bleeding from his muscles under your touch. "where's rex?"

"he's fine, i made sure." he reassures you, and you let out a sigh of relief at his words, visibly relaxing into the pillows holding you up. "tried sneakin' him in here, but the nurses wouldn't have it."

a laugh escapes you, the sound still managing to make his heart feel light, even all these months later. "can't imagine why," you tease, gently nudging his head as he chuckles along with you.

it feels like a weight is lifted from his shoulders, finally having you with him again. his eyes flutter shut as the relief washes over him, and a minute passes where neither of you speak, simply basking in each other's presence.

there's a scratching sound at the door that interrupts the peace and quiet, and the two of you share a knowing smile. not a moment later, the door is being pulled open just enough for rex to slip through and skid towards your bed on the linoleum floor, wagging his tail at breakneck speed.

before the door can completely close, johnny catches a glimpse of gaz’s mischievous grin and groans, but he doesn't have time to yell at him before he’s out of sight and rex is distracting him by leaping onto your bed.

you wheeze as your canine braces his paws on your chest and begins his assault on your face, licking every inch of skin he can reach with a series of excited chuffs and narrowly missing johnny’s head with his swinging tail.

"hi rex! you saved my life, didn’t you boy?" you giggle, affectionately ruffling his fur and planting kisses of your own on his face. "who’s a good boy? who’s the best sniffer dog ever?"

johnny clears his throat, drawing your attention to him as you cuddle rex to your chest. "i don’t want’a blow my own horn here, but i saved yer life too…" he gives you that lopsided grin, a playful glint in his eyes that makes you laugh again.

"you want some pets too?" you chuckle, reaching over and dragging his head over to you by a hand on the back of his neck. "good job, johnny, you’re a good boy too." you coo, pressing your lips to his forehead and the tip of his nose as you ruffle his mohawk like rex’s fur.

the effect is immediate. his cheeks burn again with a striking red blush, and he chokes on his breath in bashful embarrassment under your ministrations. he hopes you haven't noticed his reaction, but the way your laugh bubbles up again he can tell you’ve caught on.

"i think i like that more than i should, bonnie." he mutters, pressing his forehead against yours and allowing his eyes to flutter shut. you hum sweetly, your warm breath fanning over his face.

"don’t short circuit on me yet, soap, you still owe me a date."

tagging: @cheezbites

[written-in-flowers]

His Student: Demon!Yeosang x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Incubus!Yeosang x Fem!Human!Reader | side pairing: demonline x reader

Word Count: 11k

Genre: smut (lots), angst MINORS DNI

Summary: YN's animosity with Yeosang reaches a head after a cruel prank. Will the teacher be taught new things by his insolent student?

Tags: enemies to FWB, master/salve dynamic, enslavement, mentions of domestic abuse, sex fighting, sex wrestling, degradation, name calling, nipple play, breast play, breast slapping, spanking, humiliation, light cock and ball pain, anal fingering, vaginal fingering, oral sex, rough oral sex, anal sex, unprotected sex, slight blood play, tickling, tickling feet, self-lubrication, tit fucking, thigh fucking, exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, gangbang, cream pie (massive), belly bulging (slight), hate fucking, fight fucking,

@pirateeznet

Previously on Pretty Pet | > Next

***

Sunrises. Chittering birds. The warmth of a lover. The smell of a hot breakfast or dark coffee. There were many things you’d rather wake up to aside from the pallid, stern face of your handler, Yeosang. Blinking your eyes open, you let out a soft groan seeing him on the side of the bed. You wondered how long the weirdo had been watching you, since he said nothing to you. It unnerved you. You rolled on your side to turn your back on him. Could he not see you're recovering from San?

Two months of living with your new masters was exhausting, if nothing else. Being San’s housewife proved more difficult than expected. Lots of travels into the city, buying ingredients for dinners you don't make, having clothes he tore apart mended, and pretending to tidy up a house that is already clean was a lot. Hongjoong remained undecided about his “schedule”, so it changed regularly: you’d either be enduring sex training by him or one of the servants, sitting in a cage with kitten ears waiting for him, or whatever he felt like assigning for the day. Interchange that with lessons with Yeosang, who was not the most understanding or gentle of teachers. He was critical, bossy, and demanding. If you missed a note, he made you play the piece again. If your voice cracked on a high pitch, he rolled his eyes and told you to sing again. According to him, musical talents should come easily to someone, and you kept proving him wrong. 

“You’ve been in bed long enough,” you heard him say. “Time to get up. You’re going to miss your lessons.”

You’d never, ever, ever tell anyone how much you’d enjoyed taunting him that first day. Seeing the strict, austere demon crumble in your hand gave you a sense of triumph. It felt good getting back at him in the best way. 

“Boo-hoo,” you grumbled into your pillow. The toll the previous night took on your body showed in your sore muscles. Thankfully, the creams helped with the tender areas. “I’m sick.”

“You’re not sick.”

“Yes I am,” you gave several coughs, “See?”

“You can’t get sick in Hell, idiot,” he scolded. “You’re already dead. You only get sick if someone curses you with pestilence, which you’re tempting me with if you don’t get up right now.”

“Do it, Demon Boy,” you challenged. “Then you can tell Master Seonghwa why he can’t have sex with me tonight.”

Brown eyes rimmed with crimson glared at you. For a second, you saw him considering it before his loyalty to Seonghwa won over. 

“You were permitted to miss breakfast with Master Seonghwa, but you aren’t missing your lessons. The Masters are at work, Jongho is on his way to start your morning routine, and I have to prepare us for the day. Get up.”

“What if I don’t?” you shot at him. 

“I’ll have Mingi throw cold water on you and drag you out of that bed,” he threatened. “Then, you can walk around cold, naked and wet.”

“Bet you’d love that, huh?”

He didn’t answer you, but instead turned on his heel and left. Rolling onto your back again, you soaked yourself in San’s bed. The youngest brother worked you particularly hard the previous night. He’d gotten worked up from his day at the arena, so in usual fashion, he came home half naked and harder than a rock. It started in the living room, where he tore at your dress and panties before taking you in the hallway towards the bedroom. Heated passion drove the both of you last night. You simply couldn't get enough of one another. You knew you'd have a similar night with Seonghwa, if he wished.  

“Morning, sunshine!” Jongho poofed into existence as you slipped off the bed, holding the thin chemise he always put over you. “How’re you feeling? I heard Master San was pretty wild last night.”

“It was nothing unexpected,” you answered, sliding on the chemise. “That cream you made helped with the bruises.”

“Master San can get a bit rough when he’s in the heat of things,” he said, “So I knew you’d need it. I’ll bring you some tea while you’re bathing.”

“Thanks, Jongho.”

He let you walk into the bathroom alone while he disappeared to the kitchen. It took several minutes of convincing and reassuring your handlers that you can bathe yourself. You told them you weren’t a baby. Not that you hadn’t minded the extra-close attention, but the bathtub seemed the only place nobody disturbed you. Sliding into the water, you added a few drops of bath bubbles and watched them form in your hands. The calming scents wafted up from the surface, which you inhaled deeply. Bath time was always the best time. Wiping the cloth over your skin, you let yourself soak in the relaxing warmth. 

You’d grown to enjoy your life in the Black Keep. It was extremely more preferable than the House of Kisses. During San’s days, walking through the streets in your casual dresses and heels, you’d pass the brothel district to see the other slaves. You pitied their situation, even if Mingi insisted they deserved and chose this fate. He didn’t understand the reality of the circles. It’d been one of the realizations you made about the high-borns: they don’t visit the circles. Those places are for the damned to endure, not the demons. The farthest they’d gone, you’ve assumed, was to their different workplaces. You’d explained to Mingi that a life of servitude was more appealing than suffering a brutal punishment. Yes, they lived in poverty, subjected to vile sexual acts every night, and abused by their “owners”, but better than the circles. Much better. You in particular were especially lucky. 

“Fucking pet…” 

She’d been a skinny, unwashed thing. You’d walked back through the district from the merchants’ street when you came across her. Her body wrapped in a sheet of muslin fabric, the young woman stood outside a brothel peddling herself to passersby. You knew from experience that being put out was a form of punishment. They’d work, eat and sleep outside the brothel rather than in the comfort of the inside. She’d seen your fancy dress and lace collar, and glared at you. You couldn’t help glaring back. It’s not as if you asked to become their pet. It was fate. You don’t even know if they bought you legally. San only slit Rufus’s throat and they took you as theirs. 

“Are you planning on marinating in there like a chicken or are you going to get out? We’re on a schedule that you’re already late for.”

Where you’d expected Jongho, you received Yeosang instead. You huffed in annoyance, “Aren’t you supposed to be, like, preparing for the lesson? You know, tuning the piano or the cello or finding the right books to put my nose into?” 

“I already did,” he said stone-faced. He walked over to the shelf of toiletries and towels, grabbing one of them for you. “Sorry that I don’t dawdle. Unlike you, I understand schedules and adhere to them.”

“It’s not the end of the world if I don’t show up on time.” 

He came to the tub, extending the towel to embrace you. “Out. Now.”

You grumbled, standing from the comforting water into the cold air. He wrapped you in the towel, and began drying your body. “I can dry myself, you know.”

“I do,” he said, starting at your feet and working to your knees, then your hips. “But I have a job to do and I do it.”

As he dried you, you noticed he caressed certain spots. At first, you thought he was being careful with the areas San spanked in his heated moment. Yet, you couldn’t help seeing the heavy lidded eyes and longing stares. You rolled your eyes. He lingered over marks San left on parts of your body. Absent-mindedly, he traced the light bruising he found with delicate fingers regardless of location. His cold digits left goosebumps on your skin. 

“I thought we were on a tight schedule, Yeosang,” you interrupted his admiration. 

He coughed awkwardly, “Yes, we are.”

He hurriedly dried the rest of you, put you in your chemise again, then took you to your dressing room. Wooyoung stood there waiting with a Seonghwa-approved dress: a wrap-around pale pink dress with flowers painted onto the hems. Your hair done into a braid, he tied a matching ribbon to the end of it. In the mirror, you saw the angelic, innocent virgin Seonghwa wanted. You also spotted Yeosang looking at you in the mirror. The same lust-filled stare gazed over your body, no doubt undressing you piece-by-piece again. You ignored him, and walked out of the room first. 

“Morning, Mingi,” you said to your bodyguard who stood outside your doors. 

“Morning, YN,” he replied, nodding as you passed by him. “Have fun last night?”

“Loads,” you grinned. “Have fun listening to it?”

“You know I did.” You sensed him watching the ends of your dress swishing in each stride, and stifled a laugh. “You’re a demon’s weakness, you know that?”

“It’s becoming more obvious by the day.” 

Yeosang came into step with you, then walked ahead. You shook your head at him. Seeing his straight strides, his proper posture and head tilt, Yeosang showed his superiority even while walking. Even with his status as a “servant”, he thought himself above everyone around him. Mingi claimed they are cousins, sons of Satan, the Prince of Wrath. It explained Yeosang’s quickness of anger, even if subdued by his sophisticated manner. If he is so important, why was he content with servitude and not having his own lands?

“You’re a son of Satan, right?” you asked him from behind. 

“A grandson.”

“Then how come you don’t have your own lands like The Masters?”

“I’m not part of the direct bloodline,” he said stiffly. “I am a son-of-son. Only those with direct relation get the finer things.” 

“That still makes you his blood though. You’re his grandson.”

“And not directly from him. Direct bloodline implies it is someone right after him like Master Seonghwa, Asmodeus’s son from the 18th generation.”

“18th?”

“Those demons born between 1701 to 1800 obviously,” he said over his shoulder. “We won’t be covering the 18th generation for a while. We're still covering the 12th generation.”

“The medieval period, I know.”

“The High Middle Ages, YN.”

“Well, what generation are you, Mr. Know-It-All?”

“20th,” he said. “I was born in 1904. My mother was a demon of wrath and my father, Satan, took a liking to her. She was his mistress for many years. Same for Mingi’s mother. The Princes don’t take ‘wives’, if you couldn’t tell on your own.”

“What generations are Masters Hongjoong and San?”

“Master Seonghwa is from the 18th generation as well; he was born in 1754, while Master Hongjoong was born in 1755,” he said. “Master San is the youngest, being born in 1910.” 

“I guess I’d be a 20th generation, if I was a demon?”

“Yes.”

“Which would make you older than me?”

“Psh, I’m much, much older than you, but that doesn’t seem to matter to you. You’re generally disagreeable and insolent to anyone regardless of age.”

“No, Yeosang, I’m only disagreeable to you.”

He opened the doors to Seonghwa’s apartment without retort. You liked shutting him up even if briefly. Mingi stayed by the doors while you followed Yeosang into the music room. You’d missed the cello lesson according to the clock on the wall, so he took you over to the piano next. Sitting beside him on the bench, you watched him open the music book on the stand for you to read. 

“Let’s start with Chopin today,” he said, turning the page to one of the compositions. “He truly is one of the greats. Small children are able to play this, so let’s see just how much better a seven-year-old would be compared to your mediocrity.”

You wanted to kick him under the bench. It made you want to prove him wrong. You paid close attention to each note he played and repeated them back. He kept a distasteful expression every time you matched his notes. You remembered bits and pieces from those piano lessons your mother’s friend gave you. Mama hoped you’d become a famous musician one day; she said you had the talent if you practiced hard enough. Eight-year-old YN wanted to make her happy, and playing the piano and singing did that. That is, until He broke the small electric piano she’d saved up for your birthday. 

‘Nobody wants to listen to that shit!’ he’d shout, kicking it aside before sitting down. 

You never played again. 

“Well, I suppose you aren’t entirely useless after all,” Yeosang said when the lesson ended. You’d played the song perfectly, and you knew it bothered him. “Master Seonghwa will be pleased when he hears you after dinner. Try to remember it between now and then.” 

He stood up from the bench, and you stayed behind. You heard him gathering books in the next room, but you let your fingers trace the black keys. A melody came to you in particular. ‘Johnny Angel, Johnny Angel, Johnny Angel…You’re an angel to me.’ She always sang while she cleaned, even if under her breath. Her voice became your welcoming jingle. It was how you knew she was home. You'd learned how to play it by listening to the tune enough and working on it secretly in your room. Her face had lit up when you played it for her on her birthday. 

You missed her smile. 

“What song is that?” Yeosang’s voice cut through your memory. It irritated you. Are you not allowed even a few minutes to yourself? “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a song from home,” you answered. “You wouldn’t care.”

‘You’ve got natural born talent, baby girl.’

“Ugh, you humans are so sentimental. It’s-”

“-Fuck you, demon-boy,” you snapped over your shoulder, fingers slamming down the keys in emphasis. “Not everyone had parents who didn’t give a shit about them.” 

“I’d rather have no parents than one who smacked me around,” he remarked. “Come on, Master Seonghwa will be here soon and he’ll be cross if he sees you all weepy like that.”

You heard him leave, and anger boiled in your veins. It angered you because he was right. You would’ve rather not had a father than the one you lived with. 

“YN!” 

Leaving the bench, you walked through the apartment to the dining room. They’d already put down the fine china and utensils for lunch. You pushed your father from your head as you sat down. Putting the cloth napkin on your lap, you wondered what you’d be having for lunch. Mama used to make peanut butter and jelly, with fruit and juice on the side. She’d put a cookie and a note inside for you. She loved you, and you treated her so terribly. You remembered purposefully leaving the bag in your locker so your friends didn’t ridicule you. Having loving parents amongst your friends was embarrassing, even though now you wished you hadn’t cared. 

“YN? Yeosang?”

Yunho appeared in a puff of smoke, in his usual servant attire. “Morning, Yunho,” you said politely. 

“Sir,” Yeosang bowed. “What can I help you with?”

“I’ve come to inform YN that Master Seonghwa won’t be coming home for lunch,” he said. “He has a lunch meeting with his superiors, so he can’t stop by. You’ll be dining alone today. He sends his deepest apologies and hopes you enjoy lunch.” 

“That’s fine,” you said. “I understand. Thank you, Yunho.”

He nodded, disappearing once again. You sighed softly to yourself. Finally, a moment of peace. When the servant brought the first course, you thought you might scream. 

‘Sorry, Kitten. I hope you enjoy your day. I’ll see you tonight.’

The pink post-it note was attached to the tray cover. Inside, you found apple slices and a cup of caramel sauce. Mama added caramel because she knew how much you liked it with the apples. It was cruel. It was a sick joke. Seonghwa must have read your mind or learned or guessed and thought it’d be funny to taunt you. To spite your master, you ate them. He likely expected you to storm out and not eat for the day. You'd prove him wrong. You'd show him. You can be strong. You've been strong and tough your whole life. 

Main course hurt equally: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with barbecue chips. Your favorite brand specifically. Tears blurred your vision, but you held them back. You could feel Yeosang a few feet away; you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You ate the sandwich with a dry mouth. 

“You must be thirsty,” said Yeosang. “Here.”

A juice box. The cartoon apple beamed at you delightfully, the brand name over their head and another apple in their hands. Yeosang stuck the tiny plastic straw in the box for you and put it where your wine glass usually sat. It became apparent whose idea this had been.

“You’re a dick, you know that?”

He only laughed, walking away and back to his corner. You drank it anyway. It reminded you of the time fourteen-year-old YN brought lunch on her first day of high school. The kids, dressed in the popular fashion of the time, laughed when they saw the ham and cheese sandwich and loving note. You’d never felt more embarrassed than that moment. Was that when you stopped loving her? Or was it when she called you ‘sugar bear’ in front of your friends? Or when she wore a t-shirt with your face on it for your birthday? Your throat clogged up with sadness, and you stopped eating. She loved you and you were embarrassed by her. 

Dessert? Chocolate chip cookies. Her chocolate chip cookies. You knew by the texture and misshapen outlines. In a fit of rage, you grabbed the plate and tossed it across the table. The expensive plate bounced off the edge and shattered on the wooden floors. You glared at Yeosang, who’d gotten a kick out of your reaction. 

“What’s the matter, YN? You don’t like cookies?” 

The juice box in hand, you hurled it at him. The distance was quite impressive, and the stain it’d leave pleased you. Yeosang gave you a shocked expression that turned sour quickly. You threw your napkin onto the ground and stormed towards the doors. They slammed closed the second you reached the threshold. They might have hit you if you’d taken another step. 

“Where do you think you’re going, slut?” Yeosang growled, fire in his voice. 

Anger normally burns like hot coals in one's belly. It scorches everything in its path through the blinding red rage. Yet, that rarely happened to you. Your rage stung. A real, hateful, borderline murderous rage pinched your nerves, and flowed through your chest like a bad heartburn. A biting pain started in your chest and rushed to your hands and your feet. This wrath never daunted your anger. It seemed to add it. 

“Away from you!”

The doors suddenly burst back open again, wood cracking the edges and a door knob flying off. You breathed deeply, fighting back the caustic acid in your throat.  You charged through to the front doors, pushing them open with force. The sudden burst startled a quiet Mingi, who sprung into action right away. 

“YN, what’s going on?” 

You didn’t answer him. Immediately, the Black Keep felt suffocating. The elegant white walls and carpeted floors smothered any air in your body. The sun glowing through the tall windows felt hotter on your skin. For the first time since you arrived, you resented this stupid house. This pretentious, obnoxiously wealthy home for horny demons. It sickened you. Mingi’s deep voice called after you, echoing in the high ceilings, but you kept moving. You never explored the mansion yourself because you’re so confined to your “schedules”. Fuck schedules. Fuck rules. Fuck everything. Fuck your snobby, self-serving bastard masters. 

You found your way outside after several turns and staircases. Glass doors led to a grand staircase down into the vast gardens of the Black Keep. Outside, you finally found a refuge to make your own. The faint sweet scent of flowers and fresh air filled your lungs and cooled your hot skin. Everything felt electric. A growl came through your throat that you didn’t think possible. In the seclusion of a maze, the scathing pains cooled down with each breath. Hot tears finally spilled from your eyes. You wished they’d killed you that night or sent you back to your brothel. That way you wouldn’t be wishing to see her again. 

Finally, you found yourself in an enclosed space. Gravel covered the walkway in and around the fountain and benches. The fountain, you saw, was three tiers of water and flowers spiraling and blooming from the top. Flowers in various shades of pink and white grew from the green leaves and vines. You plopped down on one of the benches and stared at it. Briefly, you thought about her again. She loved flowers. She claimed your father once liked them too; he owned a florist shop in town, but you found that hard to swallow. Flowers are delicate; he was anything but that. Your masters are exactly the same. They hide behind their pretty belongings and silly aesthetics. They dazzled you with good sex and pretty things to pacify you. Just like your bosses. Just like every other man in your life. 

But you turned their games back on them. You used them like how they used you. You stepped on them to reach the top. You’d been a college drop-out with no references or experience in anything. Jobs weren’t hard to find, but good paying ones were. A pretty girl working in an office full of men, you knew what you had to do. You destroyed long-standing careers, marriages, familial relationships and friendships to get what you wanted. No man or woman could say no to you. Your beauty rendered them powerless. A flash of a smile, a touch of a hand and a suggestion pulled them into you like fish on hooks. You heard the whispers around the office. You knew what people said behind your back. 

“YN’s a maneater.” 

“She’s a snake in the grass.” 

“A viper with pretty teeth.” 

“Who exactly do you think you are?” Yeosang came into the space, and you didn’t look at him. “Hello? Answer me, slut.”

“Leave me alone.”

“You lost that-”

“-I said leave me alone, slave,” you let the insult drip from your voice. 

“You don’t get to be alone anymore. You lost that-”

“-And I’m taking it back!” You fisted a few pebbles from the ground and launched them at his shiny, black shoes. “Go away! Now!”

Yeosang growled deep in his chest and charged at you. The moment he gripped your wrist, you slammed your fist into the center of his face. Your knuckles burned, but it felt worth it to see his nose bleed. The two of you scowled and snarled at one another. Like two animals in a cage, you clashed at once. Yeosang punched your cheek hard, bringing on a stinging you’d grown used to right away. You wrestled him to the ground, something you didn’t know how to do but did it anyway. Dirt and gravel shifted as the two of you slapped, punched and kicked one another. You saw the red in Yeosang’s eyes fill them completely, dark and angry as he bared sharp fangs. The brief second let you slam your fist into his jaw.

His body felt hard and hot against yours even under all the layers. You could tell he had a similar build to Mingi, albeit smaller and shorter. Grabbing at his arms, the hard muscles flexed under your hands. When your body collided with his, you took in the slight, strong frame. He'd be fuckable if you didn't hate him. The two of you paused for a moment, both of you panting heavily and bleeding. You stared up into his face, seeing his wide eyes and soft lips. He gazed down your own face as if really taking you in. Then Yeosang ripped the ties keeping your dress closed. 

“Fucking slum slut,” he grunted through his teeth, tearing the fabric with his sharp nails, “You think you have power here? You think you’re something special? Think again.”

“Like you’re any better!” you hit his kidney area, and rolled him over. You tore at his clean, white shirt. The buttons popped off when you opened it to reveal his smooth, chiseled chest and abdomen. Grinding your hips, you pinched and rubbed his nipples. “Look at you,” you growled, rolling his nipples while moving your hips, “You’re just as slutty as me. All of you are.”

“Fuck you!”

He slashed at your cheek and pushed you off him. Falling onto your back, you knelt upright as he went for you. His body flung in reverse, he pushed you onto your back and grabbed at your panties. You kicked your legs and bucked your hips as the arousal built up in your lower region. The sound of tearing fabric, and the cool air brushing your sex made it clear. He'd torn them off. You grabbed at his black hair, pulling at it while he resisted. Burying his face in your crotch, he wildly licked and sucked your clit. You didn’t dare let out the noises in your throat. His tongue slipped and slid over your hard clit. Two could play that game. Roughly removing his belt and unzipping him, you spat on his semi-hardon and stuck it in your mouth. The two of you laid on your sides, each one trying to coax a single moan from the other and resisting. 

“Fucking whore,” he seethed, rapidly rubbing your clit, “You never say no to dick, do you?”

You nearly ripped off his pants when you broke out of his grip. Dick hard and red, it pulsed in your hand as you grabbed his balls underneath. “And you don’t say no to my mouth,” you shot back, spitting on him more and wetting his delicious cock. “You act like you’re better than me, but I see how you look at me. You want to fuck the shit out of me every minute of the day.” You tugged at his ballsack, earning a loud hiss, “My pussy dripping in your mouth…My ass gripping your tiny cock.”

“It’s not tiny!” 

It really wasn’t, but you’d never tell him that. He rolled you onto the ground, straddling your hips and roughly tugging on your bra. Your tits filling his hands, he squeezed them as he placed harsh kisses on your neck. His dick, throbbing and wet, pressed right to your sex. You reached down to him, and continued stroking him while he bit and sucked your nipples. Heavy breathing, grunting and groaning came between you. You hungered for him. You hated that your body betrayed you so easily; it gave him a power you never gave up to anyone. His expert tongue teased the tips of your nipples, sucking the pebbles until they grew harder. His large cock leaking into your hand, so close to your sex, you thought you might go insane with need. 

You shoved him off you and started humping him. Focusing on your pussy rubbing the head, you smirked in pleasure at his whimpering. Yet, he refused to show any arousal.  Yeosang kept squeezing your tits, which sent you into a new whirl of pleasure. 

“Slut,” he slapped your breast hard, “Slut, slut, slut.” 

He emphasized each word with a slap to your tits, which had you pinning down his knees. You saw his dick standing straight up, and you smacked it hard. It wagged in the air, and you heard Yeosang give a painful hiss. 

“Slave, slave, slave,” you mocked him, slapping his dick and balls. You knew he liked it by how he grew even harder. “You’re a bigger whore than me. Each of you,” you lifted his dick to slap his testicles and make him jerk. “All of you are a bunch of whores. I only have to flash you and you all drool like fucking dogs.” You stroked him while smacking his balls, the combination of pleasure and pain making him leak in your hand. 

“Don’t make me laugh!”

He grabbed your hair and pulled you over again. His dick slipped into your throat, choking your airway with his girth. “We only have to touch you a little bit, and you get soaked! Look at you now,” he shoved himself in and out of your mouth, “Taking my dick like a champ as your little cunt gets wet for me. You slum sluts love cock. You crave dick all day.”

You started sucking him earnestly, humming around him in your throat and grabbing his pert ass cheeks. Yeosang groaned when you forced a finger into his asshole, the move making him fuck your throat faster. Snug walls sucked your finger further inside him, pulsing at this new intrusion. You felt his hole growing wetter, but not with what you expected. What appeared to be a thin, clear cum worked as a lube. Self-lubricating. You never found anything hotter. Yeosang grew louder, moaning against your pussy and pushing into your throat.

 “Going to make you my cum dump,” he said, eyes closed, “I’m going to make you swallow my whole load. You’d fucking love that.”

Sinking two fingers into you, you grabbed his arm and pushed him onto the ground. You continued sucking him off, straddling his head, and forcing his knees apart. Yeosang groaned and panted loudly as you fingered and sucked him. He hooked his arms around your thighs, and pulled your pussy onto his mouth. Neither of you spat any more insults. You’d make Yeosang cum like that whore he truly is. You’d get one over on him with your throat and fingers. Reaching deep inside, you found the spongy parts of his prostate. He moaned loudly on your clit, flicking the sensitive nub and sucking on it obscenely. His walls tightened around your fingers, and you matched your fingers' pace with your mouth. You grinded against his tongue, whimpering when it slipped inside you. He slapped your ass much harder than San ever could. You dug your nails into the fleshy part of his inner thigh before dragging them down. He bit the inside of your thigh. You smacked his balls hard. A primal hunger came out of each of you. Your body wished to give in, but your mind didn't let you. You tasted him leaking into your mouth, which you used to spit into your hand and shove back into his ass. 

“Too bad I don’t have a dildo to fill this pretty hole,” you taunted him, “Whores like being fucked in their ass.”

“You would know,” he said, mouth full of pussy. He grabbed your hair, holding you in place as he pushed up into your mouth. “You’d fucking know, wouldn’t you, bitch?”

You kept his legs open as you fingered him faster, spit making it easier to slide in and out. He was practically riding your hand after a time, and you started riding his long tongue. You wouldn’t cum first, even if the sensation started building behind your clit. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. 

“Cum for me, bitch,” he smacked your ass with both hands, “Cum like the fucking whore you are.”

“You first, asshole,” you used your hand to smack his balls while you throated him again. 

His tongue reached up to your g-spot, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head. You heard his moans grow louder, much like when you’d given him the handjob. The slick sounds of his wet cock and hole being used nearly sent you over the edge. The moment you taste thick salty cum, you begin sucking him harder and fingering him deeper. Once your thighs trembled, Yeosang kept the same pace and forced you to his face. It was too close to tell, but you both came. His cock stifled your feral groans and your pussy muffled his high moans. You hated to admit he tasted so damn good. You stroked and sucked each drop, loving the slightly sweet taste in the process. 

When you both finally came down, you moved away from him and wiped your mouth and fingers on the end of his coat. He did the same with your dress, the wetness clear against the cotton fabric. 

“Just couldn’t get through lunch without some dick, huh?” he spat with a smirk. “You slum sluts are unbelievable.”

“You didn’t complain when I was finger fucking your ass.”

“And you didn’t when I came down your throat. Cock-hungry, cum-eating skank.”

“Not as bad as being a desperate, small-dicked prick.” 

He spat in your direction, and stood up. “Get cleaned up and come to the library. We’re not done with your lessons today.”

You didn’t dare flop down into the ground. On jelly-legs, you used the fountain water to clean your hands and mouth before following him through the garden. Neither of you said anything on the way back to the library. Mingi spotted your limping and torn dress, and glared at Yeosang. 

“What did you do?” he said, hands clenching at his sides. “The Masters will whip you for this.”

“I didn’t put it in her,” Yeosang said, walking past him without stopping. “I know her cunt is theirs even though it should be everyone’s with how horny she is all the time.”

Mingi’s glare diminished when he saw you. Removing his jacket, he put it over your shoulders and buttoned it to cover your body. “Are you okay?” he touched your tender cheek, pulling away when you winced. “They’ll put him on the whipping post for this.”

“I’m fine, Mingi,” you assured him. “It was just a bit…rough, that’s all.” He tried hiding the intrigue in his eyes, but you caught it and stepped closer to him. “You know I like things a bit rough,” you said in a whisper, “Especially rough enough to make me cry.”

“I should’ve gone with you then,” he said, wiping underneath your lip. “I’d give you something to really cry about.”

“Sounds like fun.” 

You brushed yourself against his crotch as you turned in his arms and walked into the room. They make it so easy. It was amusing. Finding Yeosang in the library, you saw he’d pulled out several leather books. By their worn out spines and the corners, you guessed they must be several centuries old. The one scroll he’d taken out seemed delicate and frail as he carefully unrolled it on the table. 

“Lose the jacket,” Yeosang ordered, “If you insist on acting like a whore, Master Seonghwa should see it when he returns home.”

Rather than argue, you removed the jacket. 

And the dress. 

And your bra. 

In nothing but your heels, you sat in front of him and took one of the copies on the table. “What’s first in the curriculum?” you asked, pretending as if you sitting naked was entirely normal. 

“Oh, so you do know words with more than two syllables,” he said, acting surprised. “Look at you, little scholar.” He took his own copy of a book titled ‘Literature of the Kings: A Collection of the Middle Ages'. “We’ll start today with writings from the high middle ages. Master Seonghwa likes to talk about them, so try and keep up. Maybe you'll actually remember the time period.”

“The middle ages are all the same to me.”

While you both went over the first collection of old writing, you knew Yeosang kept looking at your body. You liked the attention and obvious struggle he faced. As he told you about something called The Cranberry Tales or whatever, you stretched to show off your chest to him. He’d finished with you in the garden, but here he was struggling to focus on his lesson plan. You wanted him to admit he was hornier than you and his masters combined. The men you used in the previous life liked to think themselves superior to everyone; they acted like the titans in their fields. You knocked them down a few notches with your pussy. It felt particularly good with men who acted above you, the secretary or office manager. Once you sat on them, they crumbled like broken cookies. 

Yeosang made it through the literature lesson, and you moved to History and Geography of Inferno. The map on the table detailed the various circles, inner and outer rims. Each part in different colors, it depicted which territory belonged to which prince. You'd seen the map before, since he brought it out every lesson. Seonghwa and Yeosang believed if you lived in Hell, you should know its lands. You decided to stand on his side of the table, hands on the edge as you moved in front of him. 

“Where are we on here?” you asked, rolling your hips into his groin casually. 

“In Prince Asmodeus’s domain, as I've told you before, the Lands of Depravity,” he pushed right back into you, arms going through yours to point to the light red space on the map. One hand casually grabbing your breast, he continued, “Everything from this end of the circle to this end is his. The whirling winds where you came from are on this side away from the main city. I understand why you were put there now…” he pressed his lips to your ear as he pinched your nipple, “You just had dick and now you want more. I guess you like my ‘tiny dick’.”

“I don’t know what you mean. You’re the one pushing your dick into my ass.”

“Because you make it so readily available to me.”

“Like you wouldn’t take it if I didn’t dangle it in front of you like a dog wanting a treat.”

“I’d fuck you like the bitch you are.”

“The only bitch is you.”

You squeaked when a hand smacked across your ass again. He went back to explaining the areas of the map, the others areas of Hell and which families owned them. The Rivers of Wrath belonged to Satan's clan, while the long mountain area called The Golden Range was Prince Mammon's domain. Prince Belphegor saw over the Forest of Agony above the seventh circle; Prince Beelzebub, Prince of Gluttony, owned the vast, fruitful food resource of Hell called The Meadow. Anyone related to Prince Leviathan lived in the cold, stormy seaside Port Envy. Every prince had an heir, someone who watched over their land for them. Some princes had more offspring than others. Yeosang mentioned Prince Belphegor having the least amount, since children do not interest him. Asmodeus had the most, understandably. He told you one of the biggest rules in Hell:

"You don't enter another prince's territory without permission."

When he demanded you repeat the information back to him, he cupped both your breasts and squeezed them. It only mildly distracted you. As you described every prince and their heirs, Yeosang nibbled at your neck and slipped his hand between your legs. Your pussy, still wet from the garden, felt sensitive to his touches. 

“-And this is our family,” you pointed to the serpents around the thorny rose, “Master Seonghwa is the heir to the land, with Master Hongjoong and Master San right after him-”

“-Yes, I am the heir of this land.”

Yeosang and you jumped apart when Seonghwa stood in the doorway. Removing his tie, his dark eyes glinting with interest. “And the heir wishes to know why his Kitten is naked and grinding into his loyal servant?” 

“I was hot,” you said, standing straight and killing the desires inside you. 

“Very,” Seonghwa said, eyes gazing up your body. He stopped and gasped when he saw your split bottom lip. “Kitten, what happened?” He went straight to you, cupping your face to see it more closely. “Oh, Kitten…Yeosang, what-Wait, what happened to your face?” 

The redness on the bridge of his nose stood out against his porcelain skin, and so did the welt on his cheek. Even though he'd tried fixing himself up, he hadn't done a supreme job. 

“Did you two have a fist fight?” he asked him.

“Yes, Master,” Yeosang admitted. “She was being disobedient and having a temper tantrum.”

“After you pulled a mean prank on me at lunch.”

“You humans are so damn sensitive,” he remarked. “It was only a joke. It's not my fault you can’t take a joke.”

“Nobody was laughing but you-”

“-Enough,” Seonghwa intervened, “You two argue like children.” He straightened his jacket as he said, “And you decided to fight? Where? In the dining room?” 

“No,” you answered. 

“Then who blew the dining room doors?”

“Yeosang!”

“What?! It wasn’t me! It was you!”

“I’m a human. I couldn’t have.”

“You did it somehow!” He snapped. “You slammed them open or pushed them hard to frame me.”

“Shut it,” Seonghwa snapped. “Where did you do it?”

“In the garden,” you said. 

“She’d stormed away from me when I told her not to,” Yeosang explained quickly. “I only followed her to bring her back into the house.”

“And instead of bringing her back you decided to hate fuck her again?” he asked, hands on hips. “Yeah, I can smell it on both of you. What did you do?”

“Hit each other,” you answered. 

“I mean sex-wise,” he elaborated, “What did you do to one another?” Not getting an immediate response, he said, “Oh, now you’re both suddenly ashamed?”

“I finger fucked him,” you answered, “While I sucked him and slapped his balls.”

“And I…” Yeosang hesitated. “I tongue fucked her pussy and fucked her throat.”

“Oh yeah?” The small descriptions intrigued your master, a smirk spreading on his face. He lifted your chin and examined your other injuries. You winced at the thumb touching your jaw, and he placed a soft kiss on it. “How many times did you both cum?” he asked, licking the caked blood on your broken lip. 

“Only once,” you replied, your body warming to his hot tongue. 

“A quick one then?” a low rumble came from his chest, and you knew what ran through his mind. 

“Yes,” you answered in unison. 

He looked between the two of you, then said, “Come with me.” 

Nervousness killed the arousal Yeosang started up again. There’d been no specific rules against sex with the other servants. They only said nobody could have vaginal sex with you. Is he punishing you for the door? It was Yeosang, not you. Maybe for fighting him? You can imagine that. Seonghwa likely believed fighting wasn’t lady-like. Reaching Seonghwa’s bedroom, you took in the tall canopy bed with its white floral curtains and white bed covers. The sunlight dimming outside left the room in a golden glow, bringing out the bright colors in the room. Seonghwa removed his jacket, putting it behind a chair he brought closer to the bed. 

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, taking a seat and relaxing in his chair. On a table beside him, he poured himself a brandy. “And finish what you two started in the library.”

“Sir, really,” Yeosang huffed a laugh, “This isn’t necessary-”

“-Do you both need to be fighting for the sex to happen? Is that your foreplay?”

“It’s not my fault he gets hard berating me all the time,” you said, shooting him a glance. “He’s always calling me names and insulting my intelligence.”

“I’m not saying anything untrue,” he replied. “You’re a cock-starved slum slut. Is that not true?” 

“And you’re an uptight, snobby small-dicked bitch boy,” you spat. “That sounds pretty accurate to me.” 

Seonghwa laughed, sipping his brandy, “You two really can go at it, huh? Keep going. This is fun.”

“If my dick is so small, how could you gagged on it when I fucked your mouth?” he challenged, stepping to you. 

“Psh, you call what you did ‘gagging’? The only thing that made me gag is your gross tasting cum. I wouldn’t eat it even if it was the last edible source in the world.”

“Look who’s talking. Master Seonghwa says your pussy tastes like honey, but I think it tastes like rotten fruit.”

You pushed him, and he pushed back. That sharp feeling in your chest returned, pooling like saliva in your mouth. You swallowed it back even if it hurt. Showing any sign of desire would mean Yeosang won. You wouldn’t let him. 

“Slap her,” Seonghwa said, eyes trained on both of you. “You’re going to let a slum slut talk to you like that? She’s a filthy human, and you’re a grandson of Satan. How dare she disrespect you that way.”

Yeosang took his words to heart and smacked you again. “Ooh, that was hard,” Seonghwa laughed, “Kitten, don’t just stand there. Hit him back.”

So you did. Yeosang blocked the hit and slapped you. When he reached for you, you turned him onto his back on the bed. Once more, you tore at Yeosang’s clothes much more harshly this time. The broken buttons made it much easier, and it came off with his coat as well. Yeosang squirmed when you took his nipple between your teeth. As you teased his nipples, he reached down to your own to pinch them hard. 

“Come on,” Seonghwa drawled, “You two can do better than nipple stuff. Bite each-Haha, yes! Like that!”

Yeosang sunk his canines into your shoulder, making you yelp in pain as he drew blood. You did the same back, and the taste of his blood stirred your hunger. It tasted like a good rare steak. You supposed demon blood tasted that way. You’d started grinding into Yeosang as you bit across his collarbone. The sting of pain didn’t stop him from pushing you onto your back. He straddled your stomach and started slapping your tits again, using wide swings to add extra pain. You cried out as he did it to them at the same time, enjoying the stings of pain with your arousal. Trying to wriggle out from under him, you undid his pants to pull his cock out again. You held his hands on your tits as you slipped his length between them. 

“Oooh a nice tit fuck,” Seonghwa said, “How delightful. You’re not going to give in that easily, are you, Yeosang? I didn’t think the sons of Satan could be so weak.” 

“He is weak,” you confirmed, glaring at him as you pumped him with your breasts. “He’s already dripping on my tits. He loves my tits, don't you, Yeosang? Huh? My soft tits and hard nipples?” 

“You fucking bitch,” Yeosang growled. 

You laughed mockingly at him, and he slapped your face. Still laughing, you grappled with him as he tried getting you onto your front. 

“Pin her down,” Seonghwa cheered, “Get her ass in the air.” 

“What’s going on here?” a curious voice came from the door. San appeared, fresh from work, and he stopped next to Seonghwa when he saw you and Yeosang on the bed. “Are they wrestling?”

“Hate fucking. Care to watch?”

“Absolutely. I love a good hate fuck.” 

Forced onto your front, you tried lifting Yeosang off your back. Laying on your horizontally, he held you down while he began landing hard slaps to your ass. Your kicking and jerking amused the three demons. 

“Finger her,” Seonghwa called out, “Make her cum first.”

“Darling, just grab his dick. It’s right there.” 

You curved your body as much as possible to reach Yeosang’s hardening cock. Yeosang in return slipped two fingers into your aching pussy. Seonghwa cheered for Yeosang when he spotted the butler listening to his instructions. Yeosang spread your legs further, putting one hand under you and another over you and he fingered your pussy and rubbed your ass hole. Whining and whimpering, you spat on your hand and worked him up and down. You felt him pulse with each stroke. With a hard squeeze of his shaft, the brief pain distracted him enough to lose his grip on you. Sitting on his chest, you spat on his dick and stroked him with both hands. Yeosang’s fingers tickle the tops of your feet until you become ticklish. You kept jerking him off even as you fought the tickling sensation in your feet. He went further up your feet until he reached the center of your sole, which had you kicking to escape them. 

“Ticklish much, slut?” Yeosang teased before grabbing both ankles. 

He rolled you onto your front, pinning you down with his body and continuing to tickle your feet. Laughing from the tingling feeling, you tried moving your feet from him but when he turned around against you, using the empty space like a chair, it was over. Strong arms wrapped around your legs, he kept tickling your feet and backs of your legs. 

“Is it weird that I’m kind of into this?” San asked his brother. 

“Hongjoong’s into it, so let that be your answer.”

“Tickling isn’t that weird…”

You eventually kicked a foot out, and scrambled away from Yeosang. On the other side of the bed, you stood ready to tackle him. 

“Uh-oh, she got away, Yeosang,” Seonghwa jeered. “Just grab her!”

Yeosang lunged for you, managing to yank you onto the bed by the hair. Bent over, he brought you into the middle by an arm around your thighs. You struggled in his grasp. Your lower half in his lap, Yeosang resumed tickling your feet with one hand while holding your face into the bed with the other. Shimming your hips around, your pussy pressed to his cock easily. Yeosang let out a soft moan when you slipped him between your thighs. Grinding up and down, you fucked Yeosang with your thighs. 

“She’s thigh fucking him even in that weird position,” San chuckled. Finally seeing him, you saw he’d pulled up his own chair and drank from a brandy glass. “God, that’s hot.” 

The door opened again when you rolled off Yeosang. “Ah, so this is where everyone is!” Hongjoong walked into the room, and saw you and Yeosang on the bed. “Well, well, what is going on here?”

“Fight fuck,” San answered, “Pull up a chair.”

All three men groaned and laughed when you slammed a fist into Yeosang’s face. “Pet can really throw a punch!” Hongjoong laughed, shocked by the blood dripping from Yeosang’s mouth. 

“Put him inside you, Darling,” San suggested. “Milk him with that delicious pussy of yours.” 

“And he’d love it,” you growled at Yeosang, not hesitating to slide him inside you. Bouncing fast and hard, you pinned him by his shoulders and fucked him. “Who’s the fucking whore now, hm? Who’s the whore now?”

“It’s still you, bitch!”

Yeosang punched you this time. Teeth cutting into your cheek, he used the moment to force you onto your back. Blood tinged your mouth, which you gathered and spat on him. This only angered him more. 

“Fuck her, Yeosangie,” Hongjoong called, “Fuck her!”

The three brothers hooted when Yeosang curled you and shoved his dick into you hard. The bed bounced in every thrust. You refrained from moaning in each blissful push. Stars exploded in front of you whenever his dick went particularly deep. You swore the man was drawing out your sanity bit by bit. You clawed at his arms, his hands and back to distract him but he kept on going. The stabs of pain did not stop him at all. Even as blood peeked out of the hard scratches, Yeosang seemed unfazed. 

“You can tap out any time, Kitten,” Seonghwa said, “You can give in and let him fuck your pretty holes.”

“N-No,” you grunted, trying to slide out from under Yeosang even if his cock hit your g-spot perfectly. “Oh fuck, no. No, no, no, fuck you, no!”

Sensing your orgasm, Yeosang started pushing deeper. The brothers having a perfect view of Yeosang inside you, they started counting his thrusts. 

“Bet she cums in, like, ten more thrusts,” Hongjoong said. 

“I bet five,” Seonghwa replied. “She’s already curling her toes, look.” 

“Darling, come on, don’t give in that easily. You hold on so well for me in my bed.” 

You used all your strength to get Yeosang off you. Once separated from him, putting one arm on his throat, you squeezed his balls as you started sucking him. 

“That’s my girl,” San said approvingly. “That’s it. Give him a nice blowjob.”

“Fucking hell, Yeosang! You almost had her!” 

“Kang Yeosang,” Seonghwa scolded him, “If you don’t turn that bitch around and get back to fucking her, I’m going to put you in the greenhouse. You remember how stretched your ass hole got when Dennis finished with you, don’t you?”

This threat caused you and Yeosang to roll onto the hard floor. A shock of pain went from your head to your back, with you breaking Yeosang’s fall. Scrambling over you, he took advantage of your hard fall and lifted and spread your legs. Your head stuck against the bed frame, the awkward position nearly choked you. Keeping himself up on his hands, Yeosang fucked you in a reverse position that pleased your audience. 

“I bet you she passes out,” Hongjoong tapped San’s arm. “He’s got her in a rough position.”

“Darling, don’t give up,” San encouraged you. 

“No, do give up, Darling,” Hongjoong said, “I want to fuck you after Yeosang.”

“Hell no,” said Seonghwa, “It’s my day so I’m fucking the loser first.” 

Using Yeosang’s tactic against him, you started tickling Yeosang’s feet. He collapsed right at the first few brushes. To keep your audience happy, you managed to maneuver yourself on Yeosang so they could see you jerk him off with your soaked cunt. 

“She’s so fucking wet,” San moaned. You saw the bulges in each of their pants. San palmed his down to focus on you instead of his own pleasure. “How long have they been at this?”

Seonghwa told his brothers what you and Yeosang did in the garden. While he recounted the story, Yeosang knocked your elbows so you fell onto his chest. Locking his legs around yours, he stuck his hand to your pussy and started rubbing your sensitive pussy quickly. You managed to stick him between your thighs again, grinding into him. Both of you grunted and groaned, restraining your needy whimpers as you fucked on the ground. You refused to let him win. Even with your bloody mouth and aching muscles, you fought against him. 

“Holy shit, they did that?” Hongjoong laughed. “Sounds to me like they’re both whores. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Neither do I,” said Seonghwa, “But it riles them up. I figured a one-on-one will settle things between them.”

“By how they’re fucking, I don’t think that’s going to happen.” 

Yeosang turned you into your front and stuck himself in your ass. Your sudden scream delighted the three men. “She loves it in her ass,” Hongjoong said, “Give it to her hard, Yeosang.”

“Fuck her ass,” Seonghwa chanted. 

The three brothers began chanting as you clawed at the hardwood floors. Pleasure pounded into you in every thrust. When your moans finally broke and became louder, the chanting ended and you heard clapping. 

“Make her cum,” Seonghwa said, “Get that slum slut to cum really hard. I want that pussy nice and sloppy for me.”

“Darling, stop being a wimp and fight back!”

“She’s too fucked out to care about fighting-Oh, oh, oh, I think it’s happening!”

You punched at Yeosang’s arms, hoping it might cause him to collapse, but he held strong. Your face pressed to the floor by his hand, you trembled and pounded the floor as you came. You felt humiliated and defeated. Yeosang laughed in triumph. Hongjoong and Seonghwa cheered at your quaking legs and stiff muscles. They encouraged him to keep going, but Yeosang pulled out and stood over you. He kicked you over onto your back, smugness on his blushing face as he put his foot on your chest. His muscles tensed and body rocked back and forth. Thick drops of cum fell right onto your face and neck. This time, you didn’t catch them in your mouth but instead turned your head. You hated how he laughed in the face of your defeat, humiliating you further by cumming all over you. 

“Oh, all of a sudden you don’t want cum in your mouth?” Seonghwa asked in disbelief. 

“Darling,” San moaned in disappointment, “You were doing so well. What happened?” 

“Yeosang’s cock happened, that’s what,” cackled Hongjoong, who stood to unbuckle his pants. “Now, it’s my turn.”

“No, it’s mine,” argued Seonghwa, taking off his shirt. “Like I said, it’s my day with her so I go first.”

“Then I’m going second. San goes last.”

“What? Why me?”

“You’re the youngest.”

“And the biggest,” he argued back.

“Oh give me a break. Don’t use that excuse again.”

“On the bed, bitch.”

Seonghwa took your ankles and Yeosang took your arms. In a single swing, they threw you onto the bed. “Fuck, look at that,” Seonghwa groaned, removing the rest of his clothes and climbing onto the bed, “Her pussy is so damn wet.”

“She’s a whore,” Yeosang said, tapping his dick on your mouth, “They’re always wet.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” 

He swiftly slid inside, and immediately began pounding into you. They both laughed at your instant moaning. Hearing you moaning, Seonghwa shook his head and slapped your cheek. “Losers don’t get orgasms,” he said, “They get their slutty hole fucked and pumped with cum. They don’t get to finish.”

“You should’ve considered that before fighting me,” Yeosang said, swiping his dick on your face. “Unless you lost on purpose, which is just pathetic. So, so pathetic.”

When you wiggled, Yeosang grabbed your arms to hold you down. San and Hongjoong appeared to keep your legs spread wide as their older brother quickly finished inside you. You quivered feeling hot cum shoot all over your walls. Being held down made it hard to escape the overstimulation each one brought. Hongjoong and Seonghwa switched places, and he swished his hard tip over your gushing sex. He chuckled when you whined, doing it even more to hear you cry out. He fucked you exactly how you expected, hard and fast. His hips snapped into yours while he rubbed your nipples. You nearly came again until he did first, adding his milky cum to Seonghwa’s load. 

“Oh fuck, look at this.”

They all groaned at the cum oozing out of your pussy. “Let’s see how much it gushes when I fill her up,” San said, sticking himself in you next. “I thought for sure you’d win, Darling,” he said, fucking into you hard. “I thought my wife was a winner.”

“Ma-Mas-t-er…”

“Shut up, whore,” Yeosang said, smacking one tit until you cried. “Keep talking and I’ll shut you up myself.”

“She’d probably like that,” said Hongjoong, tweaking your nipple hard. “She’d suck dick all day if we let her.” 

“I wouldn’t complain!” Seonghwa whimpered, on the verge of an orgasm. “I’d take her to work with me too. Let her suck me under the desk.”

“We should do that,” Hongjoong said, eyes brightening at the new idea. “It’d make my work day so much more fun.”

The thought set San off. He came in several deep thrusts, bulging your belly like always, and pushed back all the cum that leaked out of you. Yeosang, hard from watching them use you, finally took his turn. Your masters laughed and beckoned him to go faster inside you. 

“I’ll pay you fifty-gold if you make her cum again,” Hongjoong told Yeosang. 

“Fifty-gold and a weekend off,” added Seonghwa. 

“And your choice of a brothel whore,” said San. 

Playing with your clit and pounding your sweet spot, you saw stars as you came. Your high-pitched squeals and quaking body amused them, but angered you. Yeosang forced himself as deep as possible as his cum joined the mess already inside you. Your masters finally released you, watching you cry from the overwhelming sensations running through your body. When you moved to close up, they held you apart. 

“I want to see it,” Hongjoong said, looking to see their combined fluids seep out of you. “Haha, it’s so full. If she were even half a demon, we might’ve just knocked her up.” 

“If only,” said San with a pout. “She’d look so pretty pregnant.”

“I’ve never fucked a pregnant chick, surprisingly.”

"Are you okay, Kitten?” asked Seonghwa, cupping your face and kissing you. “Sensitive? Any pain?”

“Yes.”

“Here, lay back against the pillows.” 

“I’ll call Yunho. Yunho!” San called into the room, the butler appearing when summoned. 

You hardly paid attention to anything else. You glared at them, “You’re a bunch of whores too. If there’s a House of Kisses, then this is the Palace of Whores.” 

They laughed at your frowning face, and Seonghwa cooed. “Don’t be a sore loser,” he said, smiling and kissing you again, “You did well too. You’ll get him next time.” 

“If you want,” San came up next to you with a wet cloth, beginning to clean your face, “We can practice together. I’m quite good at fight fucking, I’ve been told.” 

“He really is,” agreed Seonghwa. 

“I’m more of a spectator.” Hongjoong knelt in front of you, another damp cloth in his hand. He went to touch your sex, and you clammed up, shaking your head. “I’m not going to do anything. We need to clean you, baby.” He gently moved your legs apart and cleaned the sticky mess coming out of you. “We can’t have you walking around dripping like this.” 

“Just get some rest, Darling,” San pecked your lips, “We’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“You promise?” you asked softly. 

“I promise,” he said, nuzzling your nose gently. “Be a good pet and sleep.” 

The last words you heard as you drifted to sleep were Hongjoong’s: 

“Dude, what happened to your doors?”

****

Yes, what had happened to the doors? Yeosang wondered about this as the masters converged on you. His body slumped into a nearby chair, sweat sticking to his skin and matting his hair. The grappling and fighting took a lot out of him, leaving his body sore and bruised in places. All the adrenaline in his veins died out after his third orgasm of the day. Surely, he’ll be needing that weekend off. The smell of apples clung to his nostrils even with the sweat and sex in the air. Your fruity fragrance always stuck with him after being around you too long. He wondered which perfume you owned had such potency. It usually wears off after a short amount of time, but yours always stuck around. 

“Yeosang,” Master Seonghwa approached him, pouring a brandy for him, “Here. For you.”

“Thank you, sir,” he nodded, mustering energy to grab the glass and sip from it. 

“She’s something, huh?” he asked, leaning in his own chair and finishing his brandy. “I’ve never had a human who can take such a pounding like that. They usually give up in the first few minutes.”

“She’s a whore, Master. It’s what she’s made for.”

“Humans are made to be blank slates for the world to fill up as they grow,” he said. He saw his master staring at you intently. Yeosang only saw that stare in one situation: when his mind was turning. “They’re meant to be given choices, leading them one way or another, and they’re given free will to choose. Kitten chose herself each time…”

“I suppose so, sir.”

“What does she smell like to you, Yeosang?”

“Master?”

“When you are near her, what does she smell like?”

“Apples,” he answered, “Apples covered in cinnamon.”

“Are you fond of cinnamon-apples?”

“I do enjoy them on occasion.”

“Hm, interesting.” He poured himself another brandy, “She smells like honey to me.” He smiled softly, “Golden honey spread over fresh, warm bread.”

“I am aware, sir.”

“Hongjoong tells me she smells like strawberry ice cream,” he said. “You know how partial he is to strawberries in general, but he says she’s like the ice cream specifically.”

“Huh,” Yeosang said, leaning in his chair. “That is interesting.”

“San says he smells orange slices.”

“So fruit based scents,” Yeosang concluded. “What does that tell you?”

“Remember when I kissed her?” he said, “Licked her bloody lip and all?”

“I do.” He’d found it a pleasurable sight. 

“My throat stung.” The silence that followed the words left many things unsaid. “It stung as if I had acid reflux. At the time, I thought it was something I ate but now…”

“Do you believe otherwise?”

“I do. You tasted her blood. How do you feel?”

Yeosang took a moment to think about it. In the heat of passion, he’d owned the stinging in his throat to his low growls and snarls. He thought it might’ve been the deep breathing drying out his mouth. Yet, as he took a purposeful swallow, he realized it stung slightly. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach might have been his tensed abdomen or another thing entirely. 

“The same.”

“Huh…And the doors-”

“-I would never damage your property, sir,” Yeosang interrupted. “Not even in the hottest of rages would I do that.”

“Then who did it?”

“I’m not sure. She might have touched it without realizing and pushed them hard. This house is very old, Master. It is possible.”

Seonghwa chuckled, “Yeosang, you are not so blind.”

“Then what do you believe happened?”

“I think Kitten hasn’t been entirely honest with us,” he said. “I must think about this more.” 

Yeosang felt a pit of worry break through him. “Master, what happened between-”

“-Dennis…” the name came from Seonghwa without realizing. 

Yeosang’s blood went cold. “What about him?”

“Let’s put her before him,” he suggested. “I’d like to see what happens.”

“What happens? Sir, I don’t believe that is the best idea. Dennis will drain her, then rip her apart. You’ll have lost-”

“-Let me worry about that. You go and enjoy your weekend off. I recommend that brothel in the high street. It’s called Scarlet Silk. They truly have a nice selection there.” 

“Master, the greenhouse is meant for disobedient slaves and for the maids,” he said, not letting it go so easily. “YN might be a bit untamed, but she doesn’t deserve such a harsh and cruel end. What happened between me and her was nothing. It was a spat between rivals. I would never truly harm her or wish her to be harmed. I could’ve easily have crushed her if I-”

“-I said I will worry about it, Yeosang,” he said with finality. “Clean yourself up and get some rest. Jongho can see after Kitten tomorrow.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

Regret tore his insides as he left the room in nothing but a sheet. Walking through the quiet palace, he worried about what he’d just done. He’d played the prank in hopes of heating you up for sex. Yeosang enjoyed the small spats and insults you threw at one another. He knew if you figured that out, he’d never have a peaceful moment. He’d struggled to keep himself together in the library, where you left yourself bare for him. He might have taken you right there if Master Seonghwa had not intervened. The two of you could always have an amicable relationship like you and Jongho. 

But, where was the fun in that? 

***

Y/N: hmm, interesting, no? We might start learning a few new things about YN now. As always, thanks for reading, and please reblog and like <3

[onyxmilk]

Twilight x f!Reader; "Missing"

notes; i <3 angst writing!!! tw; angst, pregnancy, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, loid went to get milk without even realizing wc; 1.5k

[YourName] stood there, uncharacteristically caught off guard. She knew there would be missions where Twilight couldn’t say where he was going or how long he’d be, but right now? When she had the biggest news of their lives to share? That simply was crueler than just cruel.

The woman looked down, nodding toward The Handler. “Uhm, okay, well, thank you.” [YourName] said, swallowing thickly before going to turn around. “I know you’re with child, (AgentName).” The Handler said making [YourName] halt in her foot steps, “I-I may be.” [YourName] replied.

“That’s wonderful news. Do you want me to send a message to Twilight?” The Handler asks, and as much as [YourName] wanted her husband to know- she shook her head. “No, I’ll let him know whenever he gets back. Even if it’s years later.” [YourName] said before heading back home.

Once home and the doors were locked, windows drawn to a close too, [YourName] finally broke down. She wasn’t ready to be a single mother, but from the way The Handler wanted to hand such a useless message to Twilight, [YourName] knew it was going to be quite a long time before [YourName] gets to feel Twilight’s lips against her own.

[YourName] curled into a ball on the couch, finally finished crying her eyes out. Afterwards she took a shower, made a dinner she’d share with her baby, and then headed to bed for the night. [YourName] didn’t dream that night, she just blinked and it morning.

She called out of work for the month, only returning to the office when she was five months pregnant, or around that time period. She didn’t expect to open the door and confetti be popped around her, but it happened. She should have expected something like this.

“Congratulations! We heard you were pregnant!” A co-worker said excitedly, [YourName] simply nodded with a bittersweet smile. “Oh, yeah, five months along.” [YourName] says, gently placing a hand on her forming bump. There was a small office baby shower for [YourName] which she had no choice but to accept.

For the next five months, [YourName] was pampered around the office, not that she asked for it- it seemed to just happen. [YourName] found out about the mission her husband had been sent on, and all she could summarize from it was that he played therapist and dad for another family.

The day someone accidentally spoiled what Twilight was doing, [YourName] excused herself to the bathroom where she cried out everything she had held back. She wanted Twilight to play father for the family they had made together. She would exit her bathroom, that’s when her water finally broke.

Her co-worker rushed her to the nearest hospital, which happened to be the one Twilight played Loid Forger at. [YourName] sat in her room, holding her arms, alone. She never in a million years thought she’d be alone in this situation, shes read many books where women have been, but she swore she’d never be alone in labor.

[YourName] munched on ice chips between tears, that’s when a familiar face had knocked on the door and entered, “Nightfall-“ [YourName] said clearing her throat, wiping her face, and setting the cup of ice chips down. “Twilight is simply across the building, we just have to tell him that [AgentName] is in the bit thing unit, he’d come.” Nightfall explained to [YourName], it just made the pregnant woman scoff.

“It’s not fair to distract him from his work, he has a wife and daughter to act out with.” [YourName] says, looking away from Twilight’s co-worker. “Yes, true, but you’re his real wife and you’re giving birth to his first born.” Nightfall says as she attempted to convince the woman to tell Twilight about her situation, “I made my decision, maybe he should’ve tried to reach out through The Handler.” [YourName] says.

Oh. Yeah. Nightfall was suppose to give those check in messages to The Handler. Oops. Nightfall sighed, “Your secret is safe with me.” she promised before exiting the room.

[YourName] sighed, and before she knew it, she was giving birth. The whole pushing and breathing thing was so much harder than she expected. She swore she almost fainted, but she shot right back into consciousness when she heard the cry of her baby. “It’s a girl!” The doctor said, gently setting the baby on [YourName]’s chest.

[YourName] cried happy tears for the first time her entire pregnancy. Instantly, baby girl stopped crying and cuddled into her mom’s chest. It melted [YourName]’s heart, she never wanted to let go of such a tiny thing before. Eventually, the nurses had to take the baby girl to wash her up and place her in a warm blanket and hat.

With the help of a co-worker, [YourName] got home with her daughter three days later. Lotte, meaning ‘free’ in German, settled in nicely. How [YourName] wished she had Twilight with her on some nights to cheer her up and explain how he’ll get Lotte so that she could get rest instead. But [YourName] pushed through, not letting herself get too down in the dumps due to it.

Months would pass, Lotte was finally almost ten months old. Lotte watched as her mother scattered around the room, going in and out of the kitchen, cleaning. It started to bother the baby that she wasn’t getting the attention she wanted, so she began to get fussy, which her mom simply put off as ‘hating the boppy’.

Fussy turned into crying, and [YourName] was right there. She held her daughter in her arms, gently rocking her, trying everything in her power to calm her down. “M..” baby Lotte mumbled “Mama..” she cried. Despite the crying, it was clear as day who Lotte was crying for and it warmed every ounce of [YourName]’s broken heart.

It had been over a year and some things had changed since Twilight had gone on his mission. It had been over an entire year, and since there were still no messages from him- [YourName] didn’t send any to him either. It broke her heart that she had to play single mom when she was legally married to Twilight.

It just proved to herself that she could do this alone, sure she had a bit of help from co-workers, but it was mostly her doing all the work! The thought of possibly divorcing him had floated through her head, but she loved Twilight way too damn much to go through with it.

Another year would pass and Lotte was walking now, sure she had a little wobble to her walk- but she was walking! It was one of those nice days where she was sure nothing could’ve gone bad, so [YourName] decided to take Lotte out for a little treat. Over the last two years, [YourName] realized her daughter loved those soft cake pops from a local café. So her daughter would get a cake pop and [YourName] would get something to drink.

As [YourName] entered into the café with Lotte in her arms, she hardly noticed Franky and a pink haired child sitting together. By the time the mother did notice, Franky had noticed her fully first. [YourName] set Lotte on the chair and unwrapped her cake pop before breaking it into fours and taking the stick away, she then sat down next to her daughter.

That is when Franky had approached her, now she knew who he was- he was the closest thing Twilight had as a friend. “[AgentName]?” The short man asked, out of habit [YourName] turned around slightly to face whoever called her name. “Oh.. Franky..!” [YourName] said, blinking a few times to try and see better.

“Oh my god, it is you!” Franky said, dropping the child’s hand. “Where have you been? Who’s this?” He asked, referring to Lotte. Lotte was too busy stuffing her face to notice a stranger doting over her. [YourName] sighed, “I’ll tell you who she is if you tell me who she is.” she said making Franky nod.

With some hesitation, [YourName] would finally tell Franky; “This is Lotte, she’s Twi’s and I’s daughter.” she announced. Franky practically blew up as he malfunctioned, he covered the pink haired girl’s ears before he spoke, “Thats not possible. Twilight has been on his mission for two years.” Franky defended, “And I was pregnant before he left, now who is she?” [YourName] replied, gesturing to the child Franky had with him.

The pink haired girl pushed Franky’s hands off her ears. “I’m Anya Forger! Loid and Yor Forger’s daughter!” Anya introduced, but then it kicked in for Anya that THIS woman was Loid’s REAL wife. “Your baby is pretty.” Anya said, trying to break tension.

“I’ve got to go.” [YourName] scoffed, cleaning up her and Lotte’s area before getting up and picking her daughter up and going to leave. “He didn’t want to leave, [AgentName],” Franky said across the café. “Yet, he did and hasn’t sent a message since.” [YourName] says before exiting the café.

Franky had a lot of information to pass to Twilight this afternoon.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 5

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

-🐺-

You fought back a sneeze, eyes going teary as your body pathetically fought the sand that had risen and invaded the wind. Suddenly you were finding yourself wishing for the ridiculous glasses that Ghost and the rest of the boys had been wearing earlier. Though you recognised that even if you had some of those monstrosities, it’d do you no good by that point. There was barely enough light to see by, the little half moon above was winking down and barely casting much of a glow over the night sky. 

Price had dragged you all into a briefing room earlier that day and gave you all the run down on a new target, Razin, a man suspected of manufacturing bombs for the militia you were after. From there you were shown pictures of him, raising your brows at his scrawny features, and given a little intel about the town you were now stalking through. Even at the time you’d quietly groaned at the mention of the little desert town, you hated having to put up with the sand getting caught in your fur and eyes, not to mention how it made it so much more difficult to scent things as well. 

The only benefit of the place was that the houses were small and usually that meant that there wouldn't be very much to sweep. That is if it weren’t built over a tunnel or extensive secret basement, which Price was heavily theorising could be a possibility. 

From what you’d been shown it was only supposed to be two floors tall, with a roof that allowed for people to be positioned on top of it, set against the backdrop of the rocky hills beyond. It was close to the outskirts of town but still enclosed by other houses, positioned on the side that crept nearest to the small river that snaked nearby before disappearing into the rocky outcrops beyond. It would’ve been a sweet little place if it weren’t owned by the chef boyardee of bombs. 

“Y’good, Pup?” Ghost murmured through the comms.

You looked over at the spot you knew he was positioned at, secreted away on the balcony to the right of you with his rifle, and huffed out a breath. Define ‘good’, you thought. It’d been a while since you’d been so far away from him. Now that you’d been hiding out by the open window for a few hours at least, you’d been blasted with sand and bored to death enough to make you want to cling desperately onto your handler’s leg and beg him to go home. 

“Affirmative,” you whispered back instead.

“Good. We’ve got movement on the road outside of town - you two might be set to move soon, so get ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” you answered. 

You rolled your tired shoulders and looked over at Soap, noting that his dark eyes were still flitting from the target location and to you, watching carefully like a fretful horse. He still looked barely more comfortable left alone with you than when you first arrived. The man had been none too pleased when Ghost explained his plan on arrival, frowning when he was told about your little team up. Couldn’t be helped when Soap was the best equipped to deal with explosives and someone had to play sniper and keep watch.

Of course Soap had continued to train with you in the week leading up to then, slowly getting better at not flinching whenever you got close to him. However he’d never had to be around you without Ghost as a buffer yet. Now that it was just you both in the small room across from the house, he was the most tense that you’d ever seen him. Not that he was trying to be obvious about it, he clearly felt he was being sly with his darting looks and slow sighs. For that you gave him some slack. 

“I’m thinking the window on the right side is the best entry point for me,” you said, looking meaningfully across at him. “I can sweep the first floor while you go around to the side door and I can make sure it's unlocked for you.”

“You wanna go in alone?” Soap questioned, narrowing his eyes at the house.

“It’s what war dogs are for,” you shrugged. “No point waiting for you to come in with me, I can get in and check the place out quietly before you come clomping in.”

“I don’t clomp,” Soap snorted, giving you a withering look. 

“Sure, tell that to all your heavy gear and your big boots. Trust me, if I go in and get a feel for the place then I can tell who or what we need to watch out for before we go sniffing out the target.”

“And you say ‘What’ meaning?” he questioned.

“Other hybrids, bombs, guns…etcetera,” you listed, shifting your sights to the window you’d pointed out.  

“You can tell all that just from going in and getting a whiff of the front room?” he asked dryly. 

“Well I can’t give exact information, but I can give a good guess. It’s just like when we’ve been training, if you let me get ahead of you then I can check the place out first and let you know what you’re up against. That’s how I keep myself useful.” 

“Ghost, you good with that?” Soap asked doubtfully, frowning over at the balcony from the corners of your vision. 

“The house has been quiet enough,” Ghost noted. “If Pup wants to go in first, I trust their judgement.”

“Pup’s way it is then,” Soap grunted, almost absolving himself of anything that might happen. “I’ll wait for you to open the door, furball.”

You nodded your head, forcing down your instinct to growl, keeping your focus on the window instead. You’d show him who was a fucking furball. 

This was it. It wasn’t lost on you that this job would prove to the team that you could be an asset - not just a stupid wolf that ploughed through training exercises. Someone that could be used as an effective tool if given the chance.

This was your chance. You anxiously ran your hands down your vest, breathing in measured lungfuls of air while you took stock of your inventory and grounded yourself. There were three knives held securely in the right side, new ones that Ghost had gotten for you ahead of the mission, and a small first aid kit and canteen stashed in the main pockets on your left. You were wearing your gloves, and your ear protection was on and looped round your ears, the rubber circlets had thankfully stopped feeling as aggravating against your fur now that they’d been on for a few hours. They always pressed up so uncomfortably against your helmet, though it was always better to face a little discomfort than being killed by a shot you might’ve avoided. 

“The car’s approaching the building, this is it.”

The old guard troupe would be coming out and a new one would be entering, however as the intelligence operatives had noted in their previous findings, the 2am group would never get to their posts on time. They'd opt instead to routinely drink and talk shit on the roof, presumably thinking that Eugene wouldn’t know about it, and would stick around for roughly a half hour before sluggishly making their way to where they should be - giving you and Soap time to get in, search for your target and hopefully get out before anyone was any the wiser. 

You heard the engine grumbling through the winding streets long before it reached the other side of the house, but as soon as the headlights illuminated the street over, they cut almost instantly with the noise. Doors slammed and snide voices carried out into the night, mingling together in two distinct groups, one set growly and tired and the others playful and light. It was impossible to make out exactly what they were saying, but you were sure that the group leaving were probably being very obvious about how happy they were to be getting the fuck out. 

“G’on, Pup,” Ghost murmured. “Make me proud.”

You shook your head and paid no more mind to the group on the other side, you were going to move forward out of view of them anyway. With Ghost’s encouragement strengthening your confidence, you were eager to press on. You nodded your head toward Soap as a ‘see you in there’ gesture and jumped out the window, stealing your way through the street and into the next window ahead. It was easy for you to spring up, tilting your tail a little to the left so that it wouldn’t smack against the frame.

As soon as you were inside you spotted the dancing shadows of the men toward the front of the building and found a decent hiding spot behind a side wall to wait in so that the new group of guards could pass by you. Your tail swished idly as you waited for them to come in and your ears twitched, listening out and rotating like little satellites as you took in your surroundings. The livingroom and kitchen were all one room, but there was a hallway to the bottom left that would allow entry into the house and up to the stairs beyond. 

The guard opened the door before long, letting the cool air breathe a sigh into the house, and luckily they trudged up the stairs in short order. Their steps were muffled and soft, attempting to be light so that their boss wouldn’t be alerted. You heard them all the same. Your ears could pick up so much more than any of theirs could, which means you knew the exact moment you were safe to launch yourself to the other side of the room and get the door for Soap. He raised his brows at you when you made a sweeping motion with your hand to welcome him in. 

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” he whispered. “How many guests we got?”

“We got about six men tonight I think. No hybrids - you’ll be glad to know,” you said just as quietly, grinning when you caught his guilty wince. “Can smell the explosives, think Price was right on his basement theory, they don’t seem like they’re upstairs.”

“Y’hear that Ghost?” Soap said, purposefully looking away from you. 

“Copy. I’ll keep an eye on the guards, you two track down that sly bastard,” Ghost answered, growly voice tickling your ears.

“Lead the way the way then, Pup.”

You nodded and lifted your head in the air, getting a good feel for the scent trail then turned toward the hall. The plastics clung at your nose and tugged you toward the stairs, but you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you needed to get below. Every instinct was telling you that you needed to go there, that someone’s steps had passed over them, but they hadn’t ascended. 

A soft growl tore itself from you. You needed to get closer to the source. You knelt down and took a tentative sniff of the floor, the steps creaked lowly like a clearing throat as you shifted your weight onto them. Bingo.

“The fuck are you doin’?” Soap hissed. 

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sweetly. 

“The nose knows,” you shrugged. 

“What’re you on about?”

Soap’s eyes were so wide you thought he might explode. You would’ve giggled if you weren’t conscious of how much noise you’d made already. No, it was important to try to be as quiet as possible in those next few seconds. 

You hooked your fingers onto the first step and pulled up, huffing out a breath as they turned out to be heavier than expected. Though in seconds the first three steps came away and rose up, revealing a concealed stairway below - leading down to the dingy basement. The smell continued through the shadows, air thick with that heavy plastic smell. 

“Fuck me,” Soap breathed. “You can smell secret entrances as well?”

“Oh yeah, they always smell fishy,” you smirked. 

“Jesus. Ghost’s humour is rubbin’ off on you,'' he groaned.

He had a point. Normally you weren’t one for pointless chatter, but you were in your element that day and after training so much with your new team you felt more relaxed than usual. Of course you weren’t operating under the assumption that Soap would be diving in front of bullets for you, but at the very least he had your back. 

“We’re heading underground, Ghost. See ya on the other side,” Soap noted, patting you on the shoulder just like Ghost normally would. 

You felt your tail give a slight swish against the backs of your legs. 

“Copy that, Sergeant,” Ghost confirmed.

Ghost was quiet compared to usual, focused on his targets you figured. It spurred you on to focus too. You quietly slipped forward down the stairway, nose raised in the air as you proceeded. Soap followed at your rear, quietly closing the stairway and bathing you both in almost pitch darkness. There was only a little light to see by, its source hidden round the corner. Things smelled and sounded clear, but nonetheless you braced, ready to duck and dive if you needed to. 

When you turned the corner however, there was no need for any quick exits. There was just another hallway with some candles stuck in hastily hammered in holders, the flames lazily flickering as the stale air kept them standing bolt upright. You frowned and pressed ahead, boots softly pressing into the runner carpets until you almost hit a chain, only just avoiding it as you’d caught the shine of it in the corner of your eye. 

You stuck a hand out to your left and kept Soap behind you, narrowing your eyes so that he’d know to be quiet. He caught on fast, not saying a word as you took another careful sniff around the air. Among the scent of burning wicks and aged dust there was something else, something earthy. There was a low droning sound as well now that you focused, a bassy groan that drifted through the walls.   

Hybrid, you mouthed. Attack dog. 

Soap’s eyes narrowed and he raised the pistol he’d unholstered from his side, the silencer reaching out into the hallway and past your body. You stepped off to the right and allowed him to push forward and round the corner, watching with dull interest as he shot the wolf man that had been resting by the next candle. After a soft pop sounded the man slumped off to the side and left a smear of crimson as he went, eventually thudding to the ground and rattling the chain once he reached the floor. 

“That’ll be the alarm system then,” you whispered. 

“Just him? There’s not anymore?” Soap asked, looking round warily for other signs of life. 

“Not that I can detect,” you said carefully, taking another cautious breath of air. “He’s in pretty bad shape though, probably been kept chained down here a while. Can’t imagine Razin would want the hassle of having to get by more than one hungry mouth on the way in.”

“Aye…probably not,” Soap said, lingering doubt heavy on his voice.

You turned and smiled to yourself, again wondering why the Sergeant was so afraid of your kind. He had a gun, two guns in fact - one strapped to his back. You and yours only had teeth and claws to defend yourself with. Every fight you went into was one that tipped your scales ever closer to death, yet he walked around sometimes like he was standing with the grim reaper himself when he found himself with you. 

There was no point getting caught up over it though. You advanced forward again and rounded another corner, this time greeted by muffled voices and sounds of implements working away. You getting closer. You were overwhelmed by the scent of a new person, baring your teeth at the thick coal like scent. It flooded your system and set your vision alight, peripherals shrinking as your wolf instincts came rushing forward. You were ready to attack, ears pinned back and tail sinking low. 

“Pick somethin’ up?” Soap murmured, voice sounding so loud in your sensitive ears you wanted to snarl at him. 

However, knowing your target was so close by, you silently turned instead and let Soap get a good look at your face. He seemed to visibly pale when his eyes met yours, but quickly remembered himself, raising his gun and holding his position behind you. Had you been more lucid, you’d have congratulated him for not flying off like a scared bird. 

However, you walked forward instead, sticking close to the walls and keeping yourself on high alert. It wasn’t long until you were greeted with the sight of a new entryway and the drowning scent of explosive materials. Your entire head was on fire, every little instinct screamed danger, but you followed your training and ignored the rising need to get away.You peered around instead, widening your eyes as you saw Razin right in front of you. He was working away with his back turned, too distracted by whoever he was speaking to on his tablet to be able to pay any attention to either of you. 

Soap slunk next to you and looked around, mouth set in a grim line as he sized up the target. All around him, littering his workshop were multiple prototypes, tons of different kinds of bombs that Soap would know far more about than you. The only thing you knew for sure was that you’d have to be quiet, take down the target as fast as possible - that was the only way to know none of them would go off. 

Soap gently patted your head to get your attention. Wait, he mouthed. 

You wanted to snap at him, mouth watering in anticipation of a bite, eyes narrowing as his hand drew close to your throat. However you wrenched yourself away from him and breathed out as quietly as you could, anxiously glancing between Soap and Razin as you waited for your ok.

It took every ounce of self control just to stand there. Soap didn’t look like he was in any rush to let you move. He listened to the conversation instead, jaw set and head tilted while he kept you suspended in the shadows, right on the precipice of an attack. You just wanted to go, needed to fly through the room and tear at something. 

The conversation between Razin and the deep voiced stranger on the ipad drew to a close before you lost it, ending with Razin cursing before swatting at the tablet and sending it flying. You followed the movement with your eyes and turned to Soap, almost barking with glee when he tightly nodded and gave you the go ahead to go capture your target. 

You had no clue what curses Razin was shouting when you landed on top of him, but you could hazard a guess that they were some of the worst profanities he could muster. His face scrunched in fury and his whole body flailed as he fought to get you off of him, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake you off. 

Your main priority was ensuring his hands couldn’t reach for anything and set something off, so as you secured yourself over him, you bit harshly into one of his arms and growled when he swatted at you with his other hand. Before he could do any real damage Soap came to your aid and wrenched Razin’s free hand behind his back, securing it in a cuff before taking the other arm from you and settling the other cuff round that one. 

“Release,” Soap commanded, voice wavering as he caught your eyes.

Your vision was almost completely darkened, indicating to the last sane shred of you that you’d gone nearly completely feral. Every limb in your body shook and your back felt like a lightning rod as the familiar instinctual tremble worked its way through you. Maddox’s voice rattled in your ear, the ghost of him ever present when you found yourself losing to the wolf. You are an attack dog, you will bite, you will kill, this is the only way to survive. Bite mutt, kill! Do what you’re meant for, dog!

“Pup,” Soap said carefully, trying to maintain eye contact. “You good?”

You growled in response, watching with displeasure as Razin continued to struggle beneath Soap. You wanted to put a stop to it. Not part of the mission, you reminded yourself, internally struggling with the angry beast inside your head. Need this one alive. 

“Pup,” Soap said again, voice a firm roar. 

“Yes,” you snarled, shaking your head and backing off. “M’fine. Lets go.”

Kill, mutt! 

You shook your head again, walking forward and dispersing any last traces of Maddox, fighting to regain control of yourself. Normally you weren’t so prone to falling back so badly on the wolf instincts, as much as you often did use them to get in the right headspace you were usually still in control of yourself.

Now you felt untethered. It felt as though any threat to you and the team had to be treated with the utmost hostility. And Razin was a threat. It had you frowning back at Soap, watching as he struggled to force Razin forward while his feet tried to plant against the floor. You growled when Soap was knocked back by him. 

Protect. Mine. Kill threat. 

You almost stopped in your tracks when the thought hit you. For once it wasn’t Maddox’s voice spurring you and forcing you to do terrible things, this wasn’t any outside voice at all. The low growl that rushed through your head like a chemical injection was your own. Normally your instincts kicked in for self preservation,your body doing whatever it needed to in order to get through a job alive. Now they were directed at Soap, more specifically, towards ending the struggling and kicking from the man he was holding. 

“I’m going on ahead,” you said, voice pitching up as you rushed forward. 

If you spent anymore time looking over at Razin and his flailing feet you were going to kill him. It wasn’t a speculation, it was a certainty. One that had you wide eyed and running terrified down the hall. 

You reached the top of the stairs in record time, pausing at the closed exit to listen out for anyone that might be coming down on the steps above. 

“Ghost, we’ve secured the target. Are we good to exfil?” you rasped, hearing Soap cursing as he manoeuvred the hallways a lot slower than you did.

“The men are finishing the last of their drinks, one of them went down already. You’ll need to take him out and get out of there as fast and quiet as you can,” Ghost supplied, voice level as usual.

“I can manage that. Soap, I’ll go find Razin’s buddy. You good to get him out?” you asked, looking back into the darkness for your answer. 

“I’m almost through the hall, fashioned a little gag for the bastard so I reckon we’ll be good on the staying ‘quiet’ part. Go ahead, Pup, clear to move,” Soap answered, voice echoing through the halls and on your comms. 

“Alright then.”

-🐺-

You were shaking terribly by the time you made it back to transport. Razin was properly secured now, hooded and gagged before being taken away to another section of the hold with an armed guard. He was safely out of view from your stabbing glare. Meanwhile Ghost and Soap ushered you toward the opposite corner, serious looks in both their eyes as they exchanged low whispers. 

Your head was filled with cloying fog. All you wanted to do, for whatever reason, was to get close to Soap, but you feared him retaliating too much to be able to do it. You wanted to make sure he was alright, but even you weren’t sure why you were so obsessed about it. It was Soap afterall, he was a highly trained SAS soldier, he was fine. 

Not to mention, when he’d seen your blood covered face come into view behind him in the safehouse, he’d almost screamed bloody murder. The last thing he needed was you to go barreling up to him. You swore you could hear his heart thumping even when you stood just across from him, it beat so loudly. It hadn’t eased much since then and getting to the plane either.

Mine. Safe? Hurt. 

Your chest held a small flame, body keeping it roaring as you anxiously wanted to check Soap over. You could smell his blood, could smell the copper tang that was corrupting the soft sage of his usual scent. It burned at your nose and caused you to whine when you got close. Ghost’s hand prevented you from getting nearer. 

“Pup,” Ghost said softly. “Pup, can you look at me?”

You tore your eyes away from Soap and dutifully looked up at Ghost. His face was still covered by his balaclava and his eyes were darkened from the black paint. You huffed as you focused on his pupils, taking in the spiced citrus and the sound of his infectiously steady pulse. 

Your panting breaths eased. 

“You did good, Pup. Kept Soap safe and took down Razin and got that guard. You did a very good job,” Ghost rumbled, petting between your ears as he normally did. “Can you come sit down for me?”

You nodded, feeling almost in a trance as you complied with his request. You sat on the solid bench next to your Lieutenant, stopping to anxiously look back at Soap, until Ghost firmly gripped your jaw and tilted your head back to him. You whined. 

“Shh, Pup. Shhh. Just give me your attention for a sec, ok?”

You gave him a little growl, but as soon as the look in his eyes hardened, you hushed up immediately. Have to be good for him, you thought to yourself. You closed your eyes for a second, and continued to work on your breathing, calming down with each evening heartbeat. Ghost watched you the entire time, never letting his gaze wander even for a second. 

“Good, Pup,” Ghost praised after a moment, making sure to pet your back and over your ears. “That’s my good Pup, listening so well. Now…Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

You froze at his question. Biting your lip when you knew he wasn’t going to let you get away with a lie. 

“Soap’s bleeding,” you said simply, finally letting your eyes drop down to the floor. “Want to know he’s ok.”

Ghost tipped your chin back up with his hands. You could see his eyebrows were raised under the mask. You desperately wanted to look away again, but Ghost wouldn’t allow it. Soap snorted from behind your shoulder, he was still standing away from you both. His nervous steps across the metal were like their own heartbeat in your ears.  

“I’m fine. The fucker bashed my nose in while he was strugglin’,” Soap explained. “A wee bit blood is nothing to get so upset over.”

You whined. You already knew logically that he was fine. It wasn’t your logical mind that was worked up though. Otherwise you’d be able to actually explain the problem to Ghost. However, as it was, you had no idea what the problem really was. All you knew was that Soap had been bleeding and you were absolutely beside yourself with worry over it. 

Ghost seemed to have an idea though. He nodded to himself and petted your head for good measure, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder before he went to his pack. You watched his movements, cataloguing every step he took, trying to work out what he was doing. Sometimes when you got too worked up you’d get sent for a sleep, injected with a cocktail of drugs to force some calm into you.

Was Ghost going to knock you out?

You watched carefully as he pulled what looked like a bottle of water and a cloth from his bag instead. He untwisted the cap and carefully wetted the cloth, not letting too much liquid flood the material before he turned back to you. 

“Stay still for me, darlin’. Keep your mouth closed,” he ordered.

You frowned, not sure what he was about to do until he began wiping at your face, smoothing the cloth over your skin until it turned red with the other men’s blood. He was cleaning you. The realisation had you untensing yourself and for a few moments longer you sat still and let Ghost work his magic until your face felt clean and light. All the grime was gone, your skin felt a little raw, but still it was better than before. 

“Soap, you trust me don’t you?” Ghost said, putting the bottle down and looking over your shoulder.

The pacing behind you stopped. 

“Not when you bring it up like that,” Soap retorted. 

Ghost rolled his eyes.

“Come sit down.”

“Why?” Soap asked suspiciously. 

“Just come.”

It took a second, but soon Soap complied, coming to rest beside Ghost. Ghost wasn’t someone to argue with, even to other humans. You saw Soap now, pupils dilating so quickly that you could feel your eyes actively adjusting to shut out light. Oh no, not again, you thought. You were losing yourself to instinct, wanting to surge forward and get closer - wrap yourself around him like a scarf. You looked away, trying to lessen his horror (and yours) as he shifted back a bit to get some distance. 

“Soap, you’re not gonna like this…but please trust me,” Ghost said, bringing you close to his armoured chest. “I need to ask you to do something.”

You gratefully wrapped yourself round him, only barely able to get your arms fully round his vest so that you could hug into the man like he was your only source of warmth. It helped. Fully shutting your eyes against Ghost’s black tac gear and trying to distract yourself from the man next to him was the next best thing to whatever your instincts were screaming at you to do. 

“Spit it out,” Soap said through gritted teeth. 

“I need you to take Pup and let them…well essentially give you a hug,” he said awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to ask.

Soap snorted out a dark laugh and you were sure if you looked up you’d see a disgusted expression. 

“I don’t think nows the time for having a fucking laugh, LT.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought you were in any danger,” Ghost said, voice taking on an edge as his body stiffened under you. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important either, I don’t want to hurt you. You know that.”

“Ghost, look at their fuckin’ eyes, I don’t see why-”

Soap stopped before he could finish, huffing through his sentence like he’d been asked to diffuse a bomb with five seconds on the clock. Your ears flicked as you picked up a new sound filling the space, something soft and forlorn that rattled through you.

Your own sobs, you eventually realised.

You were losing yourself again, you hadn’t even realised you'd started crying. It became more than evident as the hot tears drifted down your cheeks.

“Pup, it’s ok,” Ghost said gently, stroking your ears. “Shh, you’re ok. Why’re you cryin’?”

You shook your head, head feeling dizzier than if you’d spun in an endless circle. Words were too much. They were too human.

“Ey?” Ghost continued, smoothing his hand over your back. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head again. Your body lurching with a growing dread. 

“If I-” Soap began, freeing on his words as he tried to figure out what to say. “If I take Pup…will it help…this?”

Ghost took a pause, trying to coax you from where you were squishing your face under his chin. 

“I reckon so,” Ghost said. 

Soap sighed, pushing you to cry harder. The only rational part left of you couldn’t be sure of why his reticence was so upsetting to you, but then again you weren’t even sure what had caused any of the upset in the first place. So many men had been hurt while you were with them, and most of the time you couldn't give a shit - the rest of the time you were happy even to watch them bleed or sometimes cry through some of the worst injuries. Now Soap had a bit of a nosebleed and you were practically choking as if you couldn’t take on air anymore. 

You couldn’t make sense of it. 

You especially couldn’t make sense of it when Soap switched places with Ghost and sat at your back, ending your little crying fit when he took you from your handler and held you to his front. Your sobs quietly retreated into your throat and your tears turned off like a tap had been yanked. Instead of breaking down, you focused on burrowing into his chest. Your body completely calming when you picked out the sound of his heartbeat and got closer to the fresh scent of sage, nuzzling your nose just shy of his collarbones. 

“What the hell…?” Soap breathed, body tensing as you finished getting comfortable. 

It took a little moment until he was able to slowly relax his muscles. His arms came first, settling around you, and then his thighs slowly dipped down. His pulse was the last to die down, beating insistently against your ears like a timpani drum before it gently became more of a wing beat.

You sighed contentedly and felt yourself getting very tired, closing your eyes just before your vision fully faded back into focus again. 

“You have no idea how much you’ve just helped,” Ghost said gratefully, voice sounding distant as you continued to float into what felt like a different plane of existence. 

“Are you gonna tell me how I helped?” Soap asked, voice sounding insistent as his heartbeat picked up again. “You tellin’ me that whenever one of us gets hurt that pup’s gonna need a bloody emotional support buddy to get through it?”

Ghost laughed throatily.

“Not likely,” he assured, leaning forward and stroking your back. “Learnt about this way back in training, but I’ve never seen it so strong so quickly - Pup’s pack bonded to us, but its not a secure bond right now. I’m guessing they got upset because they thought you being hurt and keeping your distance was like a rejection. Basically like you saying that they don’t need to be concerned about you getting hurt because you’re not part of the pack.”

“Well how was I supposed to kn-”

“You weren’t,” Ghost soothed, calming Soap down before you could properly stir again.

You hummed against Soap’s chest and frowned at his quickening heartbeat, attempting to slow it with a gentle nuzzle. Though it didn’t do much to calm him, so you soon stopped and found that worked better instead.

It was only when you went still that they resumed talking again.

“So what does pack bonding mean?” Soap asked, sounding unsure as he shifted around you. “Pup doesn’t even know that much about me and now we’re in this- a pack.”

Ghost chuckled at that, the material of his clothing loudly buzzing at your ears as he shook. 

“It’s not like a forced marriage Johnny, you don’t have to sound so frightened, it mostly just means their instincts’ll tell em’ to keep us safe. It’s probably down to all the protection work Price has had them doing while we’ve been in the beginning stages. Pup’s had a rough life, no ones ever cared for em’ like we have, even in the short time that’s been. Even when you’ve been handling Pup like a feinting nun, you’ve probably been nicer than most people they’ve met.” 

“Fuck you, feintin’ nun,” Soap spat, laughing despite himself. “You told me the other day I was doin’ well!”

“You have been doing well. Better than I thought you would,” Ghost said softly, a smile weaving its way through his voice. 

“Well enough to be in a pack apparently,” Soap huffed, absentmindedly running his hand over your back. 

You practically purred in pleasure at that, letting out a low happy sound in your throat. Soap startled, but still held onto you, hand freezing in place however. He clearly didn’t understand that the noise you were making was supposed to be something nice. 

“Why’re they growling at me?” Soap squawked. “What’d I do?”

“Relax! That’s not growling, not per se,” Ghost laughed, “It’s a good growl. Mean’s they’re happy. Untwist your knickers, you don’t wanna work Pup up again.”

“Fuckin hell…pack bonding…happy growls. What’s next? My poor heart could’ve done with a warning before having to hunt a terrorist and deal with all this,” Soap huffed. “And you say all this is because we’re nice? How bad has a life gotta be for a hybrid to wanna hug me? How’s this even helping?”

“It’s not about the hug itself. Being close like that is just letting them hear your heartbeat and get your scent. Pup knows you’re ok because you feel and smell healthy - that’s all they needed. It doesn’t help that the Branhaven arseholes condition them to surrender to their instincts on the field. It’s good when it comes to hunting people down, doesn’t help so much when they get all panicky because one of their own’s been bleeding.” 

“And they don’t train that out?”

“Wouldn’t have had to before. Like I said - we’re the only ones that’ve been nice to em’,” Ghost said, voice quietening when he said the next part. “We’re the only team that’s ever applied for guardianship in the entire time they’ve been working. They got stuck in the military when they were ten and got signed away under a DNN contract. Even though it’s only been a week, we’re all Pup has. It’s only natural for them to feel like this.” 

“What’s a DNN contract?” Soap asked.

“Do not notify,” Ghost said, the words making you whine softly  as you thought back to when it was first explained to you. “Means Pup’s parents didn’t want contact after they dropped them off. No phone calls or letters from them, no contact, no notice if they ever get killed or captured.”

“That’s fuckin’ bullshit,” Soap growled.

“Mhmm,” Ghost hummed, stroking his hand over your back again. “Such a sweet Pup too. Got us to be good to you now. Our good Pup, huh?”

You whined in agreement and settled into Soap fully, happily letting yourself drift off to thoughts of citrus and sage. Theirs, the raspy inner voice whispered - just before you could fully lose the battle to sleep. Mine. Theirs. Mine!

-🐺-

The next day, after the debrief had reached its conclusion, Soap asked Ghost if he could have five minutes with you. You’d bitten your lip, anticipating that he might want to chew you out for you’d acted with him, and sadly nodded when Ghost said he’d be waiting across the corridor in Price’s office for you. 

As soon as the door had clicked closed, you waited for the shouting to begin and wrapped your arms tightly round yourself, as if to keep your heart in your chest. Soap didn’t roar or hit the desk, or make any moves you’d been waiting for, not right away at least you’d figured. No, he gently tugged the seat in front of you out from the table and sat down across from you.

You peered over at him and felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, still not completely past the fact you’d insisted on curling round him like a little lap dog. Things were a bit foggy from that day still. Ghost had had to explain on the way back to his that you’d succumbed to your instincts and Soap has helped you calm down, but sure enough once he had, you remembered what you’d done and felt deathly self-conscious. No matter how much Ghost had tried to insist that it was ok, you’d gone to bed that night without speaking another word.  

“Look, um…I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Soap said nervously, arching his body down so that he could speak on your level. 

“You’re sorry?” you repeated, not sure you’d heard right. 

Did he mean to ask for an apology from you instead? You had no idea what he could possibly need to apologise for. As far as you were concerned his behaviour had been completely justified, you had acted like a crazy person. It wasn’t normal to need to sit and sniff people and hug them after they’d suffered a very common injury in the line of work you were in. Yet he still wanted to apologise to you? 

“Yeah,” Soap breathed, pursing his lips before he could explain himself. “I’ve been treating you like a threat when you haven’t deserved it. It’s not acceptable, I’m a grown man and I’ve been acting like a scared kid around you. So I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Uh…” you trailed, not really sure how to respond. “Thanks?”

It wasn’t often that anyone apologised to you, especially not when they hadn’t even done anything that you deemed bad. For that reason, you were left scrabbling for something to say and unfortunately left wanting, letting the sentiment of gratitude hang in the air instead. Things were even more awkward now. 

“You don’t need to worry about yesterday as well…Ghost said you were feelin’ awkward and I-”

“It won’t happen again,” you assured, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. “I’ll get better control of myself.”

“Well, you weren’t really yourself, so…It’s fine. You had your reasons.”

It wasn’t fine. However you didn’t really want to disagree with him, so instead you nodded tightly and looked away from Soap instead. 

“I know you have your reasons for how you are with me,” you said softly. “Something to do with your scar, right?”

“How’d you…?” Soap trailed off, rubbing his thumb along the cracked keloid on his chin. 

He almost seemed to realise the answer to his own question as he did it. You nodded when his eyes widened. It was almost comical really, he seemed like he was caught doing something awful when it wasn’t even a big deal. You were used to people being distrustful of you, had had your own parents accuse you of being ready to turn into a rogue beast at any moment. Being feared wasn’t anything new.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged. 

“No, look…You should know - I don’t think you’re gonna do anything like this to me and even then that’s not really why I- It’s not- ugh fuck it,” he sighed, body growing heavy as he sat back in his chair. “My little brother was jumped by a hybrid when we were young. He was playin’ football in the street and ended up kicking the ball too far down the road. I was supposed to be watching him and I was too busy chattin’ to my friends and- well all I heard was him screamin’ bloody murder and when I got there he was knocked out and his arm had nearly been chewed clean off. I managed to get the wolf- i mean him off my brother, but then he turned and scratched me- tried to bite- I… well anyway - I got him away and my brother ended up in hospital for a long time and it was a really fuckin’ dark time for my family.”

You watched his impassioned expressions as he told his story and nodded along, wincing as he tried to use the right words to try and explain to you what had happened. He didn’t need to explain it to you, not really. He looked down right pained as he remembered back to what must have been an awful day for him. 

Now you both sat in the heavy silence of the now cavernous room. 

“I’m sorry that happened,” you said awkwardly.

“I didn’t tell you that because I wanted you to feel sorry for me,” he said in a reassuring tone. “I just wanted you to know I have some shit to work on, and I that I am trying to work on it. I don’t want you to feel any less a part of the team because of how I act. You’re just as much a part of the 141 as I am, don’t doubt it for a second.”

Your ears pinned flat to your head and your chest swelled with emotion. The drum inside your chest beat quickly out of time and you struggled for a moment, feeling a light tingling at the back of your neck. Part of you tried to convince yourself that it was all a mean trick, but just one look into his soft blue eyes told you that he was genuine. He really didn’t want you to feel bad.

“Thanks, Soap,” you murmured, fighting the lump in your throat just to speak. “That’s really kind of you.”

“Just the truth,” he grunted, trying to inconspicuously clear the emotion from his voice. “You should probably go get Ghost now, yeah? You’ve probably got some runnin’ around to do.”

You broke at that, nodding and letting your eyes clear of the growing wetness. Soap had only in the past few days started referring to your training as ‘running around’, and it was a fair way to sum it up, but no less insulting. Playfully insulting at least, the kind of thing  teammates would say. 

It made you smile then. 

“Yeah…” you laughed, slowly rising from your chair. “Best get to it.”