#sub!dewdrop

[miasmaghoul]

Rain spitting in Dew’s mouth, there really no subtle way to put it is there

No need for subtlety if you ask me!

Also I made this dom!Rain forcedfem because I am in a Mood(tm) and no one said I couldn't.

It's long! Enjoy!

Dewdrop swallows hard as he stares at himself in the mirror.

Sometimes he doesn't know why he lets Rain do this to him. Lets the water ghoul dress him in satin and lace, lets him paint his face and clip his hair back. It's the most degrading thing in the world, being made to feel like-

"How's my sweet girl doing?" Rain's lilting voice drifts through the door. Dew's dick throbs in his panties, a frission of combined excitement and shame skittering down his spine. Oh, right. That's why.

"Almost done," he huffs, palming himself through the soft fabric. His face is bright red in the mirror, and it matches Rain's choice of outfit for the night. A lacy red bralette and matching garter belt, red fishnets and an embarrassingly small pair of white satin panties. He's barely half hard, but Dew can see every bit of the way his cock is filling out. There's already a damp spot forming at the front, the satin practically see through.

He's gotten better at doing his makeup. The wings of eyeliner almost match, and there's only a couple little smudges of mascara on his eyelids. The lipstick Rain had chosen for tonight is baby pink and glossy, shining in the too-bright light of the hotel bathroom. Dew can't stop making ridiculous faces at himself to see it glint. His hair is tied back in a loose tail, as he was instructed. Nothing fancy tonight. Rain must have plans to fuck it up. Dew shivers at the thought.

There's one more piece to the outfit though, and for some reason it was the one Dew was stuck on.

"Don't make me wait, baby," Rain coos, and Dew whimpers under his breath.

It's just a necklace. That's all. He's worn them before when they play like this. It's no big deal. Just jewelry. Nothing more, Dew tells himself. But his hands still shake as he stares at it.

A length of red ribbon, smooth and satiny. No closure, intended to be tied around his neck. That part was fine. He was mostly struggling with the gold hoop at the center of it. The one that had the word 'SLUT' dangling from it in sparkling charms. "Bought it special, just for you," Rain had whispered in his ear, "I think it's perfect for you."

Dew turns from the mirror, takes a deep breath and ties the collar around his neck just tight enough that it takes effort to swallow. Rain will like that. He steps out of the bathroom, fingering the letters that sit at the hollow of his throat.

Dew has to give his eyes a moment to adjust - the room is dark, lit only by the ambient light filtering in through the open curtains. They're on a higher floor and Dewdrop can see stars speckling the night sky. Rain clicks on a lamp and Dew looks over at him.

"Look at you," Rain purrs. He sits across the room in a plush armchair, legs crossed, head tilted. Smirking as he sips from one of the wine glasses on the table. His icy blue eyes flash in the warm lamplight and Dew feels himself shiver. "My beautiful girl."

Dew groans and nods. Rain uncrosses his legs and pats his knee, canting his head. Dewdrop pads over and perches himself in Rain's lap, hoping the low light hides how flushed he is. No matter how many times they do this, the initiation is the hardest part. But soon Rain will have him floating and absent, and Dew knows his suffering will be well worth it.

"You like your present, princess?" Rain murmurs, setting his drink down. His fingers ghost over Dew's sharp collar bone, fiddling with the letters and making them clink together. Dew swallows and gives a stilted nod, breaths already starting to come quicker. Rain chuckles, leaning in to nose at the soft skin behind Dew's ear. "Use your words," he says, flicking his tongue over the lobe.

"Y-yes," Dew rasps. It's not entirely true, but he hopes Rain doesn't hear his hesitance. The ribbon is tight around his throat. That part, at least, he does like.

"Tell the truth, sweetheart," Rain says, nipping the shell of his ear with a fang. His fingers slip beneath the ribbon, tugging it even tighter. "Good girls don't tell lies."

Dew makes a strangled sound as his cock kicks against the satin. He nods fervently, licking at his lips. He wants to say yes, wants to tell Rain he means it, but the words stick in his throat. Rain tuts at him, and Dewdrop is immediately disappointed in himself.

"Kneel," Rain instructs, tugging at Dew's ponytail. He slides from the taller ghoul's lap with a whimper, looking up at him with sad eyes. He doesn't want Rain to be upset with him. He wants to be his good girl. Always. Rain runs his thumb along Dew's jaw. "You look so pretty down there. Open up for me, gorgeous."

Dew does without argument, tilting his head back when Rain tucks two fingers under his chin. He expects them to slip between his lips, for Rain to make him suck them, and Dew sighs at the loss of Rain's touch when he pulls back instead. He reaches for his wine glass and Dew swallows with his mouth open, an odd, wet sound.

"Thirsty, hmm?" It's not a real question, and Dew doesn't respond. He simply watches, mouth watering as Rain's tongue glides over the rim of the glass. The crimson liquid flows over his lips, dark and decadent, and Dew has to grip at his garters to keep his hands from shaking.

Rain puts the glass down and leans over, smiling. He slides two fingers into the collar again and Dew lets himself be pulled forward, his breaths coming faster and faster. Rain's other hand grips at his jaw once they're nose-to-nose, and Dew feels his eyes glaze over.

Rain opens his mouth and lets the wine pour free. It flows over Dew's tongue in warm rivulets, sharp and smooth, berries and oak. Tinged with petrichor. He keeps his throat closed, lets it pool at the back of his mouth as he shivers. Rain is staring into his eyes and Dew wants to get lost in them. Rain pulls back once the last drops have fallen from his tongue, but his grip on Dewdrop's jaw keeps him from swallowing.

"One more thing," he says, voice edged with something dark.

Rain spits into his already filled mouth, and Dewdrop feels like he's drowning. Rain releases his grip and Dew swallows greedily, panting hard. His body is electric, the edges of his mind going wonderfully fuzzy already.

"Tell me what you are, babydoll." Rain's fingers tug at the ribbon again, and Dew is only too happy to say what he wants to hear.

"I'm...I'm your slut," he slurs, feeling the wet spot on his straining panties grow.

"Good girl," Rain breathes, and Dew thinks he's never been so happy to degrade himself. Rain leans in and licks a droplet of splashed wine from Dewdrop's painted lip. "Now let me treat you like one."

[iamthecomet]

Dismiss Your Demons

AKA: Kinktober Day 28 - Sounding

Rating: E Pairing: Cirrus/Dew Featuring: Service Dom Cirrus. Soft Dom Cirrus. Sub Dew. He's a tiny bit of a brat if you squint, but not really. He just likes giving Cirrus shit. Sounding. Character development cleverly disguised as porn. Aftercare (in the form of cuddles). Word Count: 3.1k. I did not read through this after I wrote it, so it is what it is, friends. I hope it makes sense. Read it on AO3.

Or under the cut.

Dew can’t think . He’s sweating. It’s pooling low on his back. He twitches his fingers where he has them pinned there. Wishing for something, anything, to flip through his fingers. 

He loves Cirrus. 

But Satanas does she make him nervous.  Especially with this look on her angular face. A crooked smile. Movements too easy, body too loose. He’s well and truly fucked.  That’s what he gets for telling her he needed to get out of his head and she could do anything.   It’s been a long week. A brutal few days on the road that have left all of them snapping at each other. Even Papa has had enough. Bad weather, bus problems, hotel mix-ups, three terrible catering companies in a row. They’ve all had enough.  Dew looks across the hotel room and longs for his bed at home. For dark abbey hallways, and candle light, and the smell of incense. He is sick of fluorescent lighting and white walls and low pile carpet. He digs his toes into it anyway, dissatisfied. 

He watches Cirrus as she flits around the room. Movements loose. More relaxed than she has any right to be given everything that’s been going on. But maybe it isn’t bothering her as much as it is Dew. She comes off as type A for sure. A control freak. But she’s more flexible than he is. Waves off problems and stupid tour bullshit with a shrug as if to say “oh well it happened, let’s move on.” 

She’s always reminded him of Aether in that way. Certainly the person they look for leadership, but because of their flexibility rather than the rigidness of someone like Dew who needs things to be right or he will feel like his skin is too small. 

That’s how he feels right now, watching Cirrus bounce around the room. Feeling like he’s just put his life in her hands. He takes a deep, breathe out. Frowns when his exhale comes out a little smokey. Tinged with anxiety. Cirrus notice, dark brows furrowing. She frowns a little at him–worried. 

“We won’t do anything you won’t like,” she reassures him. She fusses with her hair. Scrubbing her manicured nails over the shaved side. Her fingernails are electric blue, blunt like always. No deadly manicures like Aurora or Cumulus. No stiletto nails dragging over the head of his dick tonight. As pretty as that is–he’s ok with it. 

“You said something new,” he says. Allows himself this moment of vulnerability. Cirrus tilts her head at him. 

“You really are stuck aren’t you?” 

Dew grimaces. He hates it sometimes. The way she reads him like a book–all of them. So much like Aether. That’s probably why he pulled her aside after the show instead of someone else. Seeking a grounding touch someone to pull him back to earth without him really having to ask for it. 

“I want to go home,” he says. It sounds stupid. He shrugs. Doesn’t move, back straight, fingers still twitching behind his back. Knuckles flexing over the soft cotton of his t-shirt. 

“I can’t help you with that.” Cirrus sits on edge of the bed, pets the spot next to her. Dew drops down next to her. He presses his elbows into his thighs, he digs his fingers into his scalp until it hurts. Cirrus pulls him apart, uncurls him. Cool fingers unclenching his from his hair. She leans in, bumps her horns against his. 

“Enough of that,” she chides. “Aether will kill me if you come home bald.” 

Dew’s lips twitch upward. “Should shave it. Just to spite him. Punishment for abandoning us.” 

Cirrus ruffles his hair. “Don’t even think about it, firefly.” 

She presses her forehead against his. He breathes in deep, inhaling the fresh cotton smell of her. Cool and clean. He closes his eyes, nuzzles his face against her, horns bumping together. 

“Take care of me,” he says, finally. “Please.” 

“You’ll let me try something new?” 

He nods. “Anything.” 

Cirrus stands. Dew feels her vacancy in his bones. He turns his head, opens his eyes to watch her riffling through her bag. She produces a small leather case. She starts to unzip it and Dew feels his mouth go dry already. 

Not so new then. 

“Cir, that’s not–I’ve–”

Her eyes flash, so light blue they’re almost white. She grins at him, too many fangs. A chill rolls up his spine, and he swallows the rest of his words. 

“I know you’ve done this before. I’ve heard all about what you do when you’re alone with a fire.” 

Dew groans, he rolls his eyes. Tipping back onto the bed dramatically. Hair fanning out around his head. “Fucking Swiss .” “Why don’t you ever ask me to come see?” 

Dew flushes, he can’t help it. He covers his face to hide it. “You don’t usually like to just watch.” 

Dew hears the zipper on the case. The clink of metal. He shudders. Chubbing up in his jeans already. Anticipation thruming through him from sound alone. He has the vague realization that he is like a trained dog. Conditioned into arousal by the idea of sounding rods. 

“I could be compelled. Especially since you stole a rod from me to do it. I’m still missing it, by the way.” 

“Sorry.” 

Cirrus kicks one of his feet where it’s planted on the shitty carpet. Knocking his legs a little further apart so she can step between them. He feels the swell of her thighs between his. He moves his arm, looks up at her, towering over him, flipping one glinting rod through her fingers. 

“You’re not. Don’t lie.” 

Dew sits up. Reaches for her. She allows it. Allows him to put his hands on her waist, the curve of it. To slip his warm hands under her over-sized t-shirt and touch her ever-cool skin. 

“I’ll give it back when we get home.” 

Cirrus rolls her eyes instead of calling his bluff. “Strip.” 

“Don’t I get a kiss first?” 

“Brat,” she admonishes, but bends down and kiss him anyway. Full lips pressed against his. Cool. She tastes like red wine, black raspberries. He chases in, tongue sliding over hers. Taking one hand from her waist to lace in the longer side of her hair. Fingers carding through impossibly soft strands. 

She pulls back and Dew chases her lips. His cock twitches against his thigh, more than chubby now. He reaches down to adjust, gives himself a small squeeze just before Cirrus bats his hand away. 

“I asked you to do something, Firefly.” 

Dew hauls his shirt over his head, tosses it somewhere and gets to work on his belt. He shoves his and boxers down in one motion and kicks them away.

Cirrus sinks down, kneeling between his spread legs, a bottle of lube and the set of sounding rods between her knees. 

She’s right this is new. Cirrus doesn’t kneel for him. Only has ever bottomed for him when she’s been in heat. The look she gives him–cast up through long eyelashes–goes right to his dick. His stomach flips. She smooths a cool hand up over his thigh. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” she says softly. Running a blunt nail down the seam of his balls. He twitches. Digs his teeth into his cheek.  

“Never,” Dew gasps out with a shake of his head. He knows, even on her knees, Cirrus is in charge.  She’s just so pretty like this, gorgeous. Sitting low, legs tucked under her ass. Shoulders pressed between Dew’s knees. 

He slips a hand up his stomach to tug at a nipple ring as she drags her palm over the hard line of his cock. Soft hands feather light over his skin. He groans, as she palms at him, one hand after another over the underside of his cock where it curves up toward his stomatch. Not circling, more petting than anything. Just enough pressure to brush the wet tip over his sparse happy trail. 

“Lay back,” she says. The words are soft but there is no mistaking them for anything but an order.  “Let me help.” 

Dew does. Falling back onto the bed like dead weight. Toes digging into the carpet as Cirrus pets him. She polishes the head, smears precum over the ruddy head. Dew digs his fangs into his lip until he tastes copper. 

“ Relax ” she orders again. “Let go.” 

It takes effort to loosen his jaw. To allow himself to groan as one of her hands dips lower to roll his balls between her deft fingers. He melts into the bed as she touches him. Works him up with slow easy movements. Cock twitching under her hands. Spitting precum onto her hands, his belly.

He winces when he whimpers, high and reedy. He hates it, but it’s gone now, already out of his mouth. It takes a minute, but eventually he feels the tension in his head start to unravel. Feels knots loosen. He stops hearing himself. Stops worrying about how desperate he sounds. How needy. How Rain can probably hear him from the next room over. 

Instead, he hopes Rain has his ear pressed to the wall to listen. Embarrassment fading with the rest of the day–the week. 

“Good boy,” Cirrus purrs. Dew’s floating by the time he hears her open the lube bottle. Disant. Brought down by gentle hands instead of harsh words. That’s new too. He’s hazy, glassy. Every stupid annoyance is distant, he can’t even think about them. Can’t think about anything except how Cirrus touches him. 

How her hands–too soft for all of the music she plays–feel on him. He would do anything for her to have her keep touching him like that.  

“Ready?” she purrs.  Dew nods. He slurs around a yes , and a please . Hips twitching up toward her hands. His eyes are closed tight. An arm thrown over his eyes, blush burning against his forearm. With the other hand he plucks at his nipples. Tugs on the bar. Rolls the pebbled nub through his fingers. A  little rough, the little bite of pain just adding to everything. 

Cirrus starts with the smallest rod. Dew jolts when the cold metal touches his slit, presses down. More newness. When he plays with himself the metal is always warm, burning hot usually. The cold in contrast to his own body temperature makes stars dance behind his eyes. 

Cirrus is uncharacteristically gentle with him. He’s more intune to it this way–expecting a shift. For her to start fucking the sounding rod into him with abandon. But instead she works it in slowly. She leaves it deep, opting to press her fingers along the underside of his cock instead. More petting strokes, rolling the rod inside of him. 

It only takes him two more minutes to need more . A bigger rod. For her to actually stroke him. For her to thrust that ice cold metal in and out of his body. To really give him something. But he should have known that Cirrus’ gentleness would be his downfall. 

They follow the same pattern. It’s all so slow, so easy. Dew’s hips flex up toward every touch. Whines bubbling out of his throat at every twitch. Cirrus coos at him, shushes him when he really starts to whine, to beg.  She kisses the inside of his thigh. His hip bones. Drags her free hand up over his legs his belly. “Give me a color, baby.” 

“Green. Just. More . I need more .” 

“But you’re doing so good.” 

Dew digs his claws into the comforter. He could scream. Pleasure burns low in his gut. A fire he doesn’t know how to feed, not enough kindling. Just enough fuel to flicker to life, but not enough to rage. Everything is sharp, intense. He shudders with it. Nerve alight. 

Dew props himself up on his elbow, dragging his arm away from his face, opening his eyes. The room is too bright. Cirrus is looking up at him from between his legs smirk still firmly in place. 

She’s up to the second largest rod now. Dew can see the way it bulges the underside of his cock. Cirrus runs a nail over it. Fingers catching on the piercing just below the head. Swiping over his frenulum with her thumb. He sobs at the sudden jolt of pleasure. Gasping in, breath catching. 

“Hey, firefly,” Cirrus says softly. She reaches up along the length of his body, sitting up on her knees to brush her fingers over his flushed cheeks, over his throat, his pounding pulse. “How do you feel?” 

“Like I want to cum.” 

“Not what I meant.” 

Dew sighs, whimpering as Cirrus twists the sounding rod. “Floaty. Fuck . Better. Please, Cir. At least let me see you. Give me something. ”

“Don’t be greedy,” Cirrus admonishes. “I’ve given you plenty.” Despite the words she leans back, pulls her hands away just long enough to pull her shirt over her head. Dew’s throat clicks when he swallows. Eyes dragging over her tits, her stomach. The curve of her waist. He wants to touch. Wants to lay back as she rides his face. Wants her to take everything from him. 

Cirrus scoffs at the look on his face. “You’re so easy.” 

Dew nods dumbly. Of course he is. Weak, always, to the power of Cirrus’ tits. 

“Make me cum?” he means for it to come out as a demand, but instead it’s a question. Breathless. 

Cirrus cocks a dark eyebrow. She lowers herself back, sitting on her heels. Her tits brushing his thighs as she goes, one dusky nipple dragging over his thigh. Dew wants to latch onto it with his mouth. Wants to suck it swollen. 

He licks his lips, tries not to stare too much and fails. 

“I’ll do anything.” 

Cirrus’ eyebrow stays up, her head tips. She pets his cock again, watching as it twitches and spits precum onto his stomach. There’s a puddle of it there now, slick and shiny. The head of his dick is swollen, nearly purple. Cirrus bends down, and swipes her tongue up along the underside, pressing down hard on the rod as she goes. 

Dew bucks up toward her mouth. Swears he’s going to burst into flames if she keeps going. If she doesn’t just–Cirrus smirks at him and sucks the head into his mouth. Tongue pressing down on the top of the rod to keep it in place. 

He’s going to die. This is it. Death by sounding in a shitty hotel in the middle of nowhere USA. He’s fucked, utterly fucked. He falls back onto the bed, unable to hold himself up anymore. 

Cirrus pulls off with a pop. “Anything?” 

“Fuck– fuck– yes. Anything. Satanas whatever you want just fucking touch it. Make it cum. I can’t– fuck .” 

Cirrus’s hand finally curls around the base of him. The other pulls at the sounding rod. Fucking it into him. She times her strokes with it, a counter rhythm that has him seeing stars.  “Promise me.” 

“I promise. ”  Cirrus licks a stripe over his hip bone. Sucks a mark into the hollow there as she strokes him. Teeth digging in and making him gasp. Dew’s distantly aware of the sound he’s making. High pitched, whining. Desperate. If Rain wasn’t listening at the wall before he definitely is now. He bucks toward Cirrus’ hand, toes curling in the carpet. 

“ Close .” 

“Then cum,” Cirrus whispers against his hip. “Let it out. Let me see how messy you get.” 

His balls draw up tight, he sobs as it hits him. Pleasure burning through his veins. His back arches as he cums. Cirrus pulls the sounding rod in just in time for the first spurt to hit Dew’s stomach. It dribbles down Cirrus fingers, into his pubic hair. Dew closes his eyes so tight he sees red. It feels like it goes on forever. Body still twitching long after he stops shooting. Cirrus strokes him through it, doesn’t stop until she’s squeezed every drop she can from him. 

Dew waits for Cirrus to pounce on him. To force him into overstimulation. To straddle his face. She doesn’t. Instead, she wipes him up with her t-shirt, apologizing softly as he hisses in overstimulation. Then she pokes and prods him until he shifts. Muscles like jelly. He pulls himself fully onto the bed, finally laying in in properly. Cirrus settles in next to him, pulling him down to her. Curling an arm around him and pressing his head to her chest. Cheek pillowed by soft plush flesh as she pets the side of his head. He listens to her heart as he comes back down. Steady, solid. He clings to her. Fingers dimpling into her waist. 

“Give me a minute and I can–whatever you want.” 

“I’m fine, Dew.” She kisses him between the horns. 

“Not fair,” he says sleepily. “You should get off too.” 

She shrugs beneath him. “You know how it is for me. It’s not that easy. Watching you is just as good, you know that. Do you feel better? Quieter?” 

Dew nods. Yawns, nuzzles into her breast. He presses open mouthed kisses across the freckled skin there. Lazy. Appreciative. “Yeah. Thank you, you’re too good to me.” 

“No, I’m not. You don’t have to carry so much on your shoulders, Dew. You can let other people hold it sometimes.” 

He shrugs. “Dunno how.” 

He feels her smile against his hair, she kisses him again, at the base of his horn this time. She settles in, breath huffing out over his slap as she cradles him. He feels her relax beneath him, heart slowing, breathing going even. Comfortable beneath his warmth, his weight. Dew feels sleep tugging at him. He cracks his eyes open to stave it off for just a few more minutes. 

“What do you want then? Something, obviously,,” Dew mumbles sleepily. Cirrus chuckles, still stroking her fingers through his hair, working through tangles. When he tips his head to look up at her, he finds her eyes closed, face open and relaxed. 

“Next time you sound yourself, I want you to call me so I can come watch.” 

Dew blinks at her, head tipping to the side in confusion. “That’s it?” 

Cirrus laughs, she cracks an eye open, lips twisting up into that same mischievous smirk from before.  “Is it ever?” 

Dew pulls his gaze away from her face and puts his head back where it belongs. He sucks her nipple into his mouth, teeth dragging over it as it hardens against his tongue. Soothing more than sexual. He doesn’t answer. They both know there’s more. And Dew could ask for a clue–but he likes it better when Cirrus surprises him. 

[feralghxuls]

merry christmas ya filthy animals

You Call On Me

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Dew/Swiss

Tags: Finger sucking, Hand & finger kink, undernegotiated kink (they have an Understanding, everything in here has been discussed previously offscreen), light somnophilia (sort of), boot kink

Words: 2,240

Summary: Swiss is feeling needy, but he won't ask for what he wants and Dew gets fed up with it. (Not that shoving his fingers into Swiss's mouth is really a punishment, but hey)

Dew's a little mean and Swiss loves it.

Swiss slinks past for the seventh time in the last thirty minutes, not quite making eye contact with Dew as he brushes by and lifts his tail. Dew stares him down, masking his hunger with a look of irritation. 

It’s just the two of them and Aether in one of the common rooms, a movie Aether wanted them to see playing on the TV, but Aether is the only one actually watching it. Well, he was, sort of. He’s curled against Dew’s side on the little loveseat they’d claimed, but he’s long since lost the battle to heavy eyelids, so really it’s just Dew and Swiss. 

And Swiss isn’t even pretending to watch the movie, instead choosing to act like a needy whore, getting up from his armchair across the room every ten minutes to refill his drink that doesn’t need refilling, to root around for snacks he doesn’t eat, to get a blanket, to put the blanket back and return with a different one. Weak excuses to stand and brush past Dew, to make sure he catches the rich cloud of want that’s rolling off him in waves. 

Dew would be lying if he said he wasn’t falling for it. The first time Swiss had pulled this, had sidled by far too close for how much space there is, bumping his hip against the arm of the loveseat and flicking his tail against Dew’s shoulder, Dew had watched him with dark eyes, heady anticipation filling his chest. He’d expected Swiss to come back from the tiny kitchenette behind him and plant himself on Dew’s thighs as he so often does to Dew and any other ghoul with an open lap, but he’d returned to his own chair instead, sinking into it and spreading his knees, pretending to watch the screen with one ear half turned towards Dew. 

By the third time Swiss pulled his little stunt, the room is already stinking of want, but Swiss still hadn’t asked for anything, hadn’t even spoken, and had still barely even touched Dew, though he had at some point popped the top few buttons of his black button down. Dew aches to reach out and rip through the rest of them, to see Swiss laid bare before him, but if Swiss wants to play games, then fine. Dewdrop can play this game. 

Read the rest on Ao3!

[pinkberrytea]

Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion.

Memento mori—Remember you must die. Enveloped in memories of her death, the Vampire Ascendant watches his darling consort as she slumbers, lost in dreams of blood and mist. Life is short, and shortly it will end; death comes quickly and respects no one. To death we are hastening, let us refrain from sinning.

An exploration of Astarion’s character and his relationship with his Dark Consort following the ascension, from a softer perspective.

Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 6.2k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: thank you for reading! this is my first time dabbling in creative writing, and of course my first attempt at smut fiction, but still, I hope it is at least somewhat enjoyable. I would like to dedicate this work to the lovely @locallegume, who was a huge source of inspiration, and also to hismostbelovedspawn over on reddit, for being always so incredibly kind and supportive. I love you guys!

tags: blood drinking; cunnilingus; body worship; light dom/sub; vaginal fingering; mildly dubious consent; creampie; fluff & angst; emotional sex; dry humping; possessive behavior; somnophilia; orgasm edging; piv sex

The beginning of the morning twilight is Astarion’s favorite time of the day, for it feels at once ephemeral and infinite. The wistful silence, broken only by the still timid chirping of the waking birds; the royal blue-colored sky, tinged with specks of the purples and violets of the dawn; the chilly morning breeze, gently rustling the flowers in the garden, pushing the still forming dewdrops off their petals and onto the ground; you, slumbering beside him, pale skin reflecting the dim light of the fading moon, rosy lips slightly parted. Sleeping peacefully like this, you look like a life-sized porcelain doll, he thinks—your unmoving chest betrays your otherwise healthy likeness, as does the unnaturally blanched color of your skin. Your nightgown hangs lazily off your shoulder, exposing one of your breasts, and your undergarments lay discarded on the floor, on the exact same spot where he had tossed them earlier that night. He adores this version of you—so vulnerable, so defenseless, laid open for him, and him only.

Astarion finds it curious, how you seem to completely lose yourself in your dreams, yet he is also greatly perturbed by the notion that there is a part of you that he is still unable to access, to dominate. It feels unnatural, not to be able to control this elusive slice of your essence, but having ever only tranced, it also mystifies him that you’d voluntarily give up your consciousness each night. You were after all ever the trusting fool—from the moment you met, he had lied to you, manipulated you countless times, and each time you fell for it, standing by his side even when the world screamed at you not to. And even now, you give yourself to him, unquestioningly, unconditionally. In all the long years of his existence, there had been none like you, and there never will be again. None as trusting, none as kind, and he both hates and loves you for it. The very notion of you extending your kindness to anyone other than him is infuriating, and makes him want to take it for himself, put it in a glass dome and hide it away in a place where only he can bask in its warmth. He thinks he is owed that, at least; yours was the only hand that ever reached out to him, so he is justified in not wanting to share.

You shift slightly in your sleep, and a lock of your hair that had been trapped underneath one of your arms falls onto your chest. After eyeing it for a moment, Astarion reaches out for the tresses and grasps them between his fingers. Bringing them close to his nose, he takes in your scent, that is now also his. It smells comforting, familiar—it smells like home. The corner of his lips curl into an almost imperceptible smile, and he closes his eyes, letting out a contented sigh. The hushed shroud of the early hours acts as a cloak, under which he is granted a brief respite, a rare chance to let himself be gentle, be kind. Just as you become entirely vulnerable before him in your slumber, he too exposes the soft underbelly of his feelings for you; that chaotic, intoxicating brew, a messy blend of passion, guilt, hurt, longing, and love, endless and unrelenting love.

He brings his elegant fingers close to your face, and ever so gently glides their soft pads across the cold, velvety smooth skin of your cheek. Your long lashes flutter slightly, tickling the sensitive area under your eyes as he lowers the digits to brush the plump of your lips. He admires you for a short moment, taking in your image—his pretty consort, so beautiful, so frail, so foolishly devoted to him. Oh how lucky he is, to have you who would do anything for him by his side; his most precious treasure, the reason why his long dead heart beats inside his chest once more. He grasps your chin, delicately tilting your head upward to face him, and tenderly presses his lips to yours. His other hand moves to your chest, fingers softly caressing the pebbled peak of your exposed breast, his touch so faint that his skin barely comes into contact with yours. As much as Astarion enjoys asserting his dominance over you, making you kneel before him, seeing the dejected yet submissive expression on your pretty face whenever he decides to make a show of his power, it is these moments he values the most. In your intimacy, he may treat you gently, tenderly, and in your state of unconsciousness, by morning his loving touches will be but a hazy memory, securing your place below, but close beside him, from where you shall never leave for as long as he draws breath—which he can now only do thanks to you.

His fingers on your nipple leave it alone for a moment to close around your breast, giving it a soft, gentle squeeze. Moving quietly so as not to wake you, he slides his right leg under yours and presses it against the back of your knee, creating a space between your thighs as he pushes them apart, where he then nests himself, climbing on top of you.

“Astarion…” when you softly whisper his name, his half-smile widens into a grin; how reassuring it is, to know you belong to him even in your dreams. He lowers his head to plant a kiss on the delicate skin of the curve of your neck, and his lips brush against the two small indentations disrupting the otherwise pristine smoothness of your flesh. Instinctively, he brings his hand to the back of your right shoulder, his long fingers blindly searching for the matching set of bite marks. The last of the three pairs adorns your left wrist, for which reason he will ever so often take your hand in his, only to lovingly kiss it and turn it around so he can admire the evidence of his proudest feat—having sired you.

“Oh my love, I’m here. I’ve got you,” Astarion coos, holding your head gently against his bare chest, fingers tangled in your hair as you writhe and squirm in his arms, empty and glassy eyes lost in a hollow stare, seeing nothing but darkness, endless darkness. The expression on your face is at once delirious and vacant—mouth agape and fists clenched, pupils blown wide, eyelashes wet with tears and a thin string of drool coming out from the corner of your lip and trickling down your chin. At least for tonight, you are lost to him, and as he winces at the still foreign sensation of the loud, vigorous throbbing in his head, your own fading heartbeat softens, dying down into nothingness. And right as it is about to fall perpetually silent, he lets his fangs pierce his own tongue, drawing droplets of now living blood; bringing your face close to his, he presses his thumb to your lower lip, and covers your mouth with his.

He loses himself in the memory for a moment, as he so often does. Your peaceful, serene expression stands in stark contrast to the one that had been etched on your face on that fateful night. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet still he remembers the pain, the agony, the relentless fear building up in his stomach as your body contorted and tears glistened in your vacant eyes. Never had Astarion been more afraid of anything than he’d been of losing you, and by his hand no less. Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion. You only ever questioned him about what had happened on the evening of your turning once, but it mattered not how many times you asked, for he would never fully disclose the raw truth—how he had cradled you in his arms and whispered sweet nothings in your ears, kissing away your tears; how he had picked you up as you lost consciousness and carried you to your bed, where he would then tuck you in so very tenderly, so very gently, softly patting your hair and holding your hand, sharing his warmth with you as you lost your own; how he would patiently wait by your side, watching as the color slowly drained from your face, his stomach sinking at the thought of you never waking again—only for you to then slowly open your eyes, their hue now a rich crimson, much like his own. No, he would never again allow himself to be so weak, for he was supposed to be your warden, your liege. This pathetic side of him was to be ever hidden from you, only rearing its ugly head during the brief, sleepy moments preceding the crack of dawn.

With his lips still pressed against your skin, Astarion starts peppering kisses down your neck, on the hollows of your collarbone and across your sternum, his hand on your breast fondling it gently, the other still tracing the bite marks on your shoulder. His still clothed hips start lazily, almost imperceptibly rocking back and forth, lightly grinding against your naked thighs; thinking back to the night when he made you his almost inevitably causes blood to rush to his groin, and his body starts unconsciously seeking the sweet relief of the friction between his hardening erection and your supple skin. He moves his hand on your breast to grasp your nipple between his fingers, lightly squeezing it. You involuntarily buck your hips in response, which amuses him greatly as he continues playing with the tender nub. A soft moan escapes your lips, encouraging and emboldening his attentions as they drift away from your clavicle towards your chest. He plants gentle kisses on the plump of your bosom, using his teeth to pull at your nightgown and drag it down, exposing your clothed breast to the chilly morning air. You shiver, and he smiles against your skin, pressing his lips to the valleys of your ribs, the softness of your lower belly, and finally to your bare crotch. With his face so close to your swollen sex, the sweet scent of your essence now intoxicates his senses. He stands back for a moment to admire how it glistens in the faint glow of the moonlight, so deliciously inviting, as your juices start building up and collecting in-between your folds.

Feeling his breath caressing the sensitive skin of your core, you finally start to slowly regain consciousness. Once his arousals were returned to him, Astarion would make a habit of waking up during the night at various times to bury his cock in you, so it takes you but a moment to gather your bearings. Either out of mischievousness or curiosity, you play coy at first, pretending to be asleep still. His soft lips briefly come into contact with your engorged bud, sending shock waves through your body, and you are barely able to keep yourself from letting out a yelp, although you can’t prevent your skin from becoming covered with goosebumps. When his tongue pokes out of his mouth to give it a tentative lick, you know you won’t be able to keep up the charade for much longer. He feels your body tense up, and slightly raises his head to look at you from his position between your legs with half-lidded, lascivious eyes, dilated pupils partially covering the ruby hue of his irises. You’re unsure if he has already caught on to your little ruse, so you try staying as still as possible, which proves difficult with his face so close to your cunt.

After what seems like an eternity he decides to continue, lapping at your clit again and then sliding his tongue downwards, burying it between your folds. He presses it against the outer edge of your entrance, squeezing slick out of you, and as he savors your essence, he can’t help but think that while its sweet tanginess does not compare to the coppery, velvety richness of the crimson in your veins—nothing ever will, for his is the blood that courses through them—it may well be the second best thing he has ever tasted. Gliding his tongue upwards once more, he uses it to gently massage the raw bundle of nerves crowning your mound, leaving a trail of saliva mixed with your fluids between it and your twitching cunt, which then dribbles down onto your thighs. Placing a hand on each side of your hips, he pulls you closer to him, and the shift causes his fangs to graze the sensitive skin of your folds, in response to which your eyes water and you clutch the silk sheets under you both. Taking no notice of your desperate reaction, he continues swirling his tongue up and down your wetness, gently sucking on the tender skin, eagerly eating you up as if you were a full-course meal served especially for him, just begging to be ravished.

You feel heat pooling in your lower abdomen, and at this rate it won’t be long before you are brought to the edge. Momentarily forgetting the fact that you are supposed to be pretending to be asleep as you lose yourself in the crescendo of your release, you arch your back, leaning on your elbows to support your weight, and as soon as you do, he mercilessly pulls away from you, leaving your dripping core empty and aching. Eyes closed still, you let out a soft mewl in protest, which you regret as soon it leaves your lips, for once Astarion notices your desperation, you are done for.

Still unsure if he has already perceived your awakened state or if he believes your body to be involuntarily reacting to his touch, you dare not produce any further sounds. Having cruelly left your throbbing arousal unattended, his tongue now glides its way up your stomach, leaving a glistening wet mess in its wake. Upon reaching your chest, his lips latch onto your left breast, your perked nub fitting perfectly inside his mouth. He sucks on it ever so tenderly, teasing it with a pointed tongue and lightly scraping the squishy surrounding flesh with his fangs. One of his hands leaves its place on your hip and finds its way between your legs, and you let out a sigh of relief when you feel a long, elegant finger ghosting over your clit. The other hand slides further down to the curve of your ass, and his blunt nails dig into your soft skin, giving it a firm squeeze.

The pad of the wandering digit finally presses down onto the engorged flesh of your reddened knot, massaging it leisurely in circular patterns, and another finger suddenly slides between your folds, parting them gently. Unable to contain yourself, you roll your hips into his hand, which you soon learn is a grave mistake as he tightens his grip on your ass, applying such pressure that come morning, bruises are certain to form on the pale skin, which he will then tenderly kiss better while looking apologetically at you from under thick lashes; and you will forgive him, as you always do. Lifting his head up from your now rouged, swollen nipple, he readjusts his position above you, using his body weight to pin you down and hold you in place. He lets go of your ass, firmly grasping at your jaw with his newly freed hand, and even from behind closed eyes you can feel the intensity of his gaze. This does not bode well, and try as you might you cannot ignore the sickening pinch in the pit of your stomach as his eyes scrutinize every inch of your face—has he noticed? Is a punishment in order? Will he deny you your release?

“Open up, darling. Your mouth.” The commanding tone with which Astarion vocalizes the otherwise unassuming words is all it takes to placate your erratic thoughts, and obeying is for you as natural as breathing—or it would be, if you were still alive. Once you do as he says, you feel his thumb pressing on your lower lip, forcing it further down. He slides the digit inside your mouth, gagging you slightly, and your lips instinctively close around it. “Good girl,” he purrs, and encouraged by the tenderness of his praise, you start lightly sucking on it, coating it with saliva. For a short moment, he becomes entranced by the feeling of your wet tongue massaging his skin, and his mind wanders to the thought of your plump lips wrapped tightly around his cock. This prompts him to once again start bucking his hips, rubbing the now obvious bulge underneath his pants against your stomach, but this time his rhythm is much more frantic, more desperate.

Relief washes over you as you feel the fingers still in your mound resume their fondling, the one on your clit now applying greater pressure, handling it much less gently, yet just as skillfully, his knowledge of all the ins and outs of your body having always been something he prided himself on. The other makes its way down from its place between your folds, plunging into you as soon as it reaches your entrance. Your body jerks in response, and your moan is muffled by his thumb in your mouth—when he then plunges another, stretching you open without giving you time to adjust, you involuntarily bite down on the digit gagging you, sinking your fangs into his flesh. He grimaces, and you can tell you have hit an artery, because the flow of the thick, hot blood running down your throat is alarmingly heavy. However, rather than pulling away, he lets you drink, curling his fingers inside you and massaging the tight walls of your cunt with his knuckles. The rich taste of his crimson lingering in your tongue and spreading inside your body, mixing with yours within your veins and making them pulsate with life—pure, raw, vibrating life—works as a powerful aphrodisiac, heightening all your senses, and the feeling of him fucking you with his fingers is all it takes for you to come undone on his hand, muscles spasming and clenching around the digits, coating them in the sweet nectar of your release.

Just as you reach your climax, Astarion’s own teeth sink into the indentations marking the otherwise smooth skin of your neck. You instinctively cock your head to the side to grant him more access, letting him feed on you as you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, sucking on his thumb still. His blood flows from him to you and then back to him, and the sheer intimacy of it brings you so close together that it’s as if you have merged into one single being. You can no longer tell where you end and he begins, as your minds touch and mesh and then untangle again, in a sensual, chaotic dance, where you both sway to the rhythm of his heartbeat. And while the connection lasts, his emotions rush through you and yours through him, rendering words meaningless as the everlasting adoration, the inebriating, all-consuming love you share, no matter how tainted, is laid bare before you, in all its wickedness and allure.

“Fear not: you are mine.”

You finally open your eyes, letting go of his thumb, and as the fog from the afterglow subsides you notice his fingers remain inside you still, gliding effortlessly up and down your twitching walls, which are now lubricated with slick and come; your skin tingles from the overstimulation, but the sensation is not unwelcome. With the hand you have just freed, he holds your head in place while he continues to feed, and you both stay like this for a while, his fingers buried inside your cunt and his fangs in your neck, where they rightfully belong. His little grunts as he drinks from you and the feeling of his hardened cock pressed flush against your stomach rekindle the ache between your legs, causing the living blood now coursing through your veins to flow to your tender core.

Having drank to his heart’s content, Astarion pulls away from you, making you wince at the sudden emptiness as both his fangs and fingers leave your body. No longer plagued by the perpetual, agonizing hollowness of vampiric hunger, his only reason for feeding on you still is the invigorating thrill of your taste on his tongue and your blood pulsating in his arteries; you were his first, after all, having offered him the greatest gift of them all when you had no good reason to. Killing you on the evening he first revealed his true nature had never been out of the question, and it puzzles him still why you would willingly surrender this sanguine gift to a vampire stalking you in the night—a pitiful creature, hiding in the shadows, with murderous intent and offering you nothing but pain and misery. He is reminded of your foolishness and naïveté every time he sinks his fangs into your soft flesh, and the familiarity of it is oddly comforting to him.

Not bothering to wipe the red smear on his chin, he brings his hand up to your mouth once more, only this time his digits are covered in your juices. A single look into his crimson eyes, clouded with lust, tells you all you need to know, and you eagerly obey the silent order, wrapping your lips around his fingers.

“Ever so obedient, aren’t you, my sweet?” His honeyed words and impish smile send shivers down your spine, and unable to talk as your tongue flicks and swirls, lapping at your own sticky essence, you look up at him through your lashes with coquettish demureness; his pretty little spawn, always so good to him, so docile, so devoted. The very sight of you makes his cock twitch with desire. “I do find it charming when you play your darling little games. Mostly because you are awful at them. You did know I was aware the entire time, didn’t you?,” although his smile widens, there is a hint of danger in his voice, “That you were awake.”

As his blood within you rushes to your cheeks, spreading to the tips of your ears, Astarion’s expression darkens, and the lust in his eyes grows wilder, more desperate. There is something endlessly enticing about how bashful and girlish you look with your face hot and flushed with his crimson, like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar, and it makes him want to devour you whole. He abruptly slides his fingers out of your mouth, and the glistening string of your fluids that forms between your lips and his digits breaks off as he uses that same hand to grab your neck and bring your face close to his. Once you are mere inches apart, he stops for a moment, the proximity between you such that you can feel his long lashes brushing against your skin and see the flecks in different shades of red swimming in his irises. The stillness in the air makes you acutely aware of the sound of his heartbeat, and it paradoxically both comforts and torments you. Such is the nature of your relationship; yearning and sorrow, worship and regret, lust and greed. The duality of it is not lost to you, but you’re past the point of coming up with justifications, for it is far too late for redemption. You made your choice, he made his, and now his burden is yours to bear. It matters not if outsiders looking in cannot make sense of it, as the bond between you was never meant to be understood by anyone else—however ugly and twisted it may be perceived by those around you, it is undeniably a bond of love, one you are willing to protect even if it costs you everything.

“Until the world falls down.”

When he finally closes the distance between you and crashes his mouth into yours, your mind is wiped clean of any semblance of coherent thought and your senses are filled with nothing but him—his scent, his warmth, his taste. He hungrily parts your lips with his tongue as soon as your skin touches his, your teeth clicking in his desperation, and his grip on your neck tightens. You feel tears well up in your eyes, some spilling through your lashes and rolling down your cheeks, your repressed emotions overflowing as you lose yourself in the fierce intensity of his kiss. You want him, you need him, you hate him; you love him, oh how dearly you love him, more than life itself. He explores the inside of your mouth, wantonly, passionately, only stopping to suck on your bottom lip, nipping it with his fangs and lapping at the droplets of blood blooming from the punctured flesh. Once he pulls away, gasping for air, you are both a disheveled mess, lips swollen and bruised and red. Not yet letting go of you, his fingers wrapped around your throat still, he guides your head back down, laying it on the soft feather pillow, only to then straighten up his torso, hand on your neck holding you in place and darkened eyes looking down upon you. From your position below him, he looks ethereal, almost godly, as the moon casts a pale halo around his frame, shining its light on the naked skin of his upper body.

He holds this position for a while, silently studying your face, and as he does, his intense gaze seems to gradually soften, mellowing out into almost tenderness. You feel the pressure of his fingers on your skin lessen, and then cease completely as he frees you, raising his hand up to cup your cheek. His thumb traces the trail of dried tears, and you lean into his soothing touch, eyes wettening once more. Taking notice of this, he leans back down and brushes his lips against the teardrops threatening to escape from your lashes, drying them before they fall.

“Shh, my darling, hush.” The softness in Astarion’s voice and the gentleness of his caresses as he runs his fingers through your hair are all you ever yearned for, all you ever needed, and yet with every touch your chest tightens and you feel a pang of loneliness and guilt tugging at your unbeating heart, for this is what you want, but not what you deserve. You failed him, just as he failed the others, and your regrets bind you together for eternity as the thread of your fate entangles with his in a constricting embrace—so is it too greedy, to let yourself be selfish and indulge in his warmth before the sun rises? Is even someone as broken and wicked as you allowed a moment of reprieve, however brief? You know not the answer to these questions, nor do you think you ever will. All you know is that there’s nowhere else you want to be but in his arms, no matter how much it hurts, for you’ll endure the pain as long as you are by his side.

“Kiss me,” you quietly plead, your supplication barely a whisper, prompting him to pull away slightly to look into your eyes. He takes a moment to try and read your expression, his gaze sharp, inquisitive, stripping you off all your defenses and laying you bare before him. A short time passes, and without saying a word, he lowers his head down again, lips brushing against yours, their pillowy softness and the taste of your blood still lingering on his skin shrouding your mind in a white fog. You raise both of your arms and wrap them around his neck, bringing him closer as your mouth matches his movements, the desperation of before now manifesting more tenderly, more lovingly, but just as intensely. One of his hands remains on your cheek as he kisses you, and with the other, he finally unlaces his pants, freeing his neglected erection, which by now is slick from the precome leaking from its engorged head. The color of the sky outside slowly begins to brighten, now a beautiful blend of periwinkle and cyan, and as the twilight peaks and starts to reach its end, Astarion decides he has waited long enough—he will take you here and now, before the merciless, harsh light of the sun engulfs you both.

Feeling his hardness against your thigh, you readily comply, spreading your legs apart. You need this just as much as he does; to be one with him, carnally, for your souls have long merged, and there is no you without him just as there is no him without you. As he lines up with your entrance, his lips leave yours and he presses your foreheads together, staring into your eyes with reassuring tenderness. You feel the tip of his cockhead flush against your dripping sex—the reddened, puffed up skin feels warm, and thinking of how it is swollen from his blood in your veins is all it takes for him to finally snap and give into his desires. He slides inside of you in a single thrust, the wetness from your juices facilitating his entry as he stretches your walls to accommodate his large size. You try to bite back a whimper, your eyes once again tingling and prickling with the promise of tears as one of your hands finds its way to the back of his head and your fingers become entangled in his silvery curls. Not moving immediately, he waits a while, giving you time to adjust. You revel in the familiar feeling of his cock stuffed inside your core, the pain and warmth of it, and you wonder if he too can find comfort nowhere else but in your flesh, as it is only when filled with him that you are able to hold together the broken pieces of your descended mind.

The hand that had been cupping your cheek now rests on your waist as he moves his head to nuzzle the curve of your neck, taking in your scent. Ever so slowly he starts rolling his hips back and forth, planting gentle kisses on the delicate skin where his fangs had been buried just moments ago, now stained with patches of dried blood. You close your eyes, still trying to hold back the tears, hugging him as tightly as you can, or as tightly as he’ll let you. His pace is at first languid, sensual, allowing you to feel the entirety of him as he massages your aching, tender walls, still sensitive and spasming from your orgasm. He grunts in your ear, prompting you to start undulating your own hips, doing your best to match his rhythm. Emboldened by this, he moves his hands down to grab your ass, tilting your pelvis up and pulling you closer to him. Just as desperate to feel him as deeply as physically possible, you wrap your legs around his midriff, allowing him to reach the innermost parts of your throbbing cunt. When the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy skin of your cervix, your gut tightens and you cry out for him, unable to contain yourself.

“Astarion…”

The sound of his name in your lips, so very eager, so very sweet, is all the encouragement he needs, and the once languid movements give way to more vigorous pounding, the lewd sound of smacking flesh echoing in the otherwise quiet room as he snaps his hips and buries himself deeper inside your aching core. Your body rocks in rhythm with his thrusts, the tears in your eyes finally escaping your lashes and running down your face, a chaotic culmination of all the pleasure, all the hurt, all the desire and all the devotion brewing deep inside your heart as your raging feelings come to a boil. No one can understand, no one will understand—and yet, as he fucks you senseless in the early hours, pumping his cock in and out of you with lascivious abandon, none of it matters. You hold him even closer, pressing your squishy breasts flush against the sweaty, glistening skin of his chest. He moans at the sensation, intensifying his pace and using his hands on your ass to tilt your pelvis higher, pushing your folded legs, which are still wrapped around him, as close to your upper body as your flexibility will allow it. You feel the muscles in your thighs stretching and burning, but this only excites you further, and the soft whimpers leaving your lips escalate in frequency and loudness alike.

As he continues pounding into you, Astarion’s kisses on your neck become more passionate, more heated, going from pecks, to licking, to sucking, until eventually he gives in and once again sinks his fangs into the bruised flesh. You mewl faintly and your grip on his hair tightens, in response to which he bites down on you harder, nails raking across the skin of your ass as his thrusts grow fiercer, more violent. The message immediately gets through to you—the cheeky little spawn must know her place—so you obediently let go of his curls, although your digits remain entangled in them still; yet he does not slow down his pace, ramming into you with such force that you are afraid you will have trouble walking once he is finished. Mercifully, one of his hands leaves its place on your ass to hover above your swollen clit, which twitches desperately as his cock resurfaces and then disappears again inside your cunt. He grasps it between two deft fingers, massaging the engorged bundle of nerves as a reward for your obedience, and that is all it takes for tension to again start building up in your groin.

“You have given me everything.”

His digits on your tender bud; your blood running down his throat; his cock slamming into you, stretching open your tight walls—you are so very close to climaxing again, and yet you don’t want the moment to end; you don’t want morning to come, breaking the spell and robbing your lover from you, as it always so cruelly does. The tragic inevitability of it is however unaffected by the infinitude of your existence, a gift that was also bequeathed to you by him, and enveloped by the ice-cold embrace of the memories of your death, your body comes alive as you are pushed over the edge, your twitching cunt fluttering and contracting around him, creaming and squirting your sweet juices all over his length.

As you slump back and go limp is his arms, Astarion unlatches his mouth from your neck and props up his torso to marvel at your image as you bask in the glory of your release—so maddeningly beautiful, cheeks and plump lips flushed bright pink with what remains of his lifeblood within you; his consort, his spawn, his to use as he pleases, his and nobody else’s. While he continues fucking you through your orgasm, all you can hear are his low moans and grunts and the squelching sounds of your wetness as he ruts into you with ever increasing furor. You can tell he is also close by the way he holds your hips with both of his hands, pushing his own against them with almost vicious ferocity while you remain slumped on the headboard, tits bouncing cutely with every thrust. The daylight seeping through the curtains now brightens up the room, and as you look up at him with half-lidded eyes, you notice how handsome he looks illuminated by the gentle glow of the rising sun, sweat beading his temple and dripping down his chin and nose.

“Gods…” he groans, voice raspy with lust, and with one final push he empties himself inside you, filling you to the brim with his seed, which feels thick and warm flooding your tender walls. Still panting and sucking in sharp breaths, he falls on top of you, not bothering to pull his cock out of your still spasming cunt, chest flush against yours and head burrowed in the crook of your neck. Spillover runs down your thighs and soaks into the wrinkled sheets, but neither of you bother cleaning it up, the resulting stain surely to give the maids good reason to blush later.

You bring a hand up to his silky curls once more, gently running your fingers through them as you feel the calming thumping of his slowing heartbeat vibrating against your cold skin. As the dawn finally breaks over the still sleeping city, signaling the beginning of a new day in your undead life—for better or for worse—you find comfort in the warmth of his flesh and the sound of his ragged breathing as it gradually steadies. All your suffering, all your pain; if even your death is required to bring him to life, then so be it. He will live for the both of you, and you will love him for it. Forever—for good.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

[kisstoru]

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . HOW TO EDGE YOUR LOSER BOYFRIEND - SATORU GOJO

word count: 1.5k

warnings: virgin!gojo x gn!reader, hāndjōb, ōrgasm denial, whiny sub!gojo, dacryphilia, cūm eating, bāll sūcking, established relationship, pet names, mdni

note: tum tum don't be mean 🙏🏽 thank you for beta'ing @thebimbopalace lube you x

loose strands of snowy white hair cling to the sheen of sweat coating satoru’s forehead. his chest, tinted over with a rose-coloured flush, rises and falls unsteadily, attempting to flood his lungs with oxygen. his crystalline irises zero in on the pearls of pre cum beading out of his slit, trickling down his length and landing on your hand, which is wrapped around his aching tip. your tongue prods at the velvety flesh in your cheek before you squeeze your fist around him, drawing out a shaky gasp from his plump lips.

“’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” satoru chokes out, shutting his eyes momentarily. his beefy arms planted behind him on the cotton bedsheets tremble, struggling to keep his upper body upright.

you’re slotted between his legs, the fingers of your other hand splayed out on the expanse of his muscular thigh. your eyes trail up the breadth of his torso, along the curve of his neck before halting abruptly to meet his blown-out pupils. tufts of his silky hair are in disarray, his lips parted ever so slightly as he opens his eyes once more, a hint of a plea in his gaze.

your eyebrows furrow, feigning innocence. “doing what?” you ask, gathering up the vicious liquid with the edge of your index finger, smearing it messily over satoru's reddened tip. a smirk tugs at your tips when a stifled groan reaches your eardrums.

moving your fist up and down his shaft, your eyes are trained on every little reaction you’re able to coax out of your boyfriend — the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the strained pants, the way his nails dig into the sheets. his jaw clenches, resisting the threat his hips hold out to buck his cock against your cushiony palm. the pink muscle of his tongue darts out to swipe over his lower lip, glossing it over with saliva. “f-fuck, just like that.”

the sound of slick fusing with satoru’s heavy breathing bounces off the bedroom walls. your pace is unrelenting, your wrist twisting as your palm glides up and down his length. satoru’s back arches in response, his chest projecting towards you as a string of desperate whines pours out of his gaped lips. dewdrops of sweat form at his hairline, trickling down his temple. the increasing warmth of his shaft spreads to your palm, a silent warning of his impending orgasm.

“please,” he groans as his nails dig into the sheets, his knuckles losing pigment. “‘m— shit, ’m gonna—”

your eyes flicker up to his face again. a trace of a smile plays at your lips when you suddenly pull your hand away, his cock bobbing about before hitting his stomach with a gentle smack. milky white globs of pre cum ooze out of his engorged tip, smearing across his happy trail. satoru’s eyes widen at the abrupt halt to his climax, his clutch on the fabric beneath him loosening.

“wha—” he chokes out, his lips gaping in blatant disbelief. the way his cock twitches is almost painful, every fibre of his body vibrating in anticipation for the high that never came. fresh tears prick at his waterline, his bottom lip jutting forward in a sincere pout. “what was that for?”

“there’s no fun if you cum this fast,” you retort, a smug expression moulding into your features. “i suppose it’s expected when you haven’t been touched like this before.” you notice the delicate tear running down the apple of his cheek. “you wanna cum, satoru?”

satoru’s urge for release outweighs his composure as he nods frantically, desperation clouding his senses. “please, baby,” he murmurs, holding your gaze in his own. “fuck— please let me cum.”

your eyes light up at his pleading words before looking down at his aching cock, which is now resting on his lower stomach. your hand reaches out to wrap around his length once more, your thumb brushing over his drooling slit before applying pressure more insistently. he hisses in response, his eyes screwing shut as he lets his jaw slack. “fuuuckkk me.”

you rub the slit at an agonisingly slow pace, noting the way the muscles of his thigh flex under your hand. picking up the pace of your movements, your thumb slides seamlessly along it, aided by his pre cum.

“shit— hah, stop teasing,” he rasps out, his nose and cheeks blushing a deep coral shade. a needy little whine leaks from his swollen lips at the lack of friction. “i need it, baby. need you to— mmph, milk me dry.” 

“patience, satoru,” you whisper, your voice holding a familiar gentleness that blankets him into a dreamy trance. “be good f’me.”

your thumb works at his slit daringly faster, occasionally squeezing your fist around him. his thick eyebrows narrow into a rigid frown, his teeth gritting as he feels an ache inflame his lower belly. 

“y-you’re being mean,” he huffs, a layer of his tears drowning out the cerulean hue in his irises. “come on— hngh, please make me feel good, baby. i n-need you.”

finding amusement in his apparent frustration, your thumb now rubs slow, calculated circles around his opening. too lost in your game, your ears perk up at the sniffle mere metres away from you. lifting your head up, your eyebrows raise at the sight of salty tears racing down the edges of his face. 

“‘s too much. hah, t-too much!” he spits out, his words coated with exasperated need as he almost chokes on his overflowing tears. your eyes soften slightly, which contradicts with the heat growing between your legs at the sight of him so vulnerable, so needy. leaning forward, you tenderly kiss away the tears before bringing your lips down to meet his in a heated kiss, holding his bottom lip hostage between your teeth momentarily before pulling back. 

“poor baby,” you coo, a playful taunt in your tone. “i’ll be nice, kay?”

his adam’s apple bobs as he watches you lower your head, your warm breath fanning over the sensitive underside of his balls. your tongue flattens, running along the spongy tissue before latching your lips around a sweet spot, eliciting an almost pornographic moan from satoru.

“hngh! oh my fucking god, hah—” he groans, throwing his head back. his teeth sink into his lower lip, attempting to stifle the unholy sounds blossoming at the base of his throat. his large hand lifts from the mattress, resting on the back of your head. his nails graze your scalp tenderly, guiding you to continue. the slurping and sucking sounds between satoru’s legs are so filthy, that he feels a heated flush scatter across his cherubic cheeks. you relish his muffled whimpers becoming more pronounced.

satoru's silken white lashes flutter as he peers down at you, his nails clutching some strands of your hair into a trap of desire. “yeahyeahyeah, like that— ohhh fuck, mmph,” he mumbles, his honeyed words fueling your actions. “’m close! don’t stop, baby. l-let me cum.”

your cheeks hollow out as you continue to accommodate his tender skin in your inviting cavity. your fingers wrapping around satoru's cock once more, stroking him leisurely to accompany your oral action. a thread of drool slips from the corner of your lip, running down the curve of his ball before forming a tiny puddle on your fresh sheets. you feel the familiar warmth within your hold, indicating that he’s nearing the climax he’s been chasing. the dainty veins running down his shaft throb as his legs tremble, his abs clenching and unclenching as a guttural whine gushes from his lips.

“fuck! ‘m cumming, baby— oh shitttt,” he grunts out, his cock twitching violently before splattering thick, hot spurts of cum across the canvas of his torso and your hair, an artful display of his heavenly bliss. panting heavily, he watches you pull away from his drained-out balls, a satisfied hum buzzing at your lips.

your gaze lingers on the droplets of cum dripping down his softening cock. your eyes glide up to meet his hazy stare. daring him to maintain eye contact, you scoop the remnants with your fingertip and bring them to your waiting mouth, smearing the substance across your tongue before wrapping your lips around your finger. satoru’s mouth opens faintly, entranced by your lewd display — he almost moans at the sight.

sucking off the remnants, you pull your finger out of your mouth with a light pop. you lean forward once more to capture his lips in a languid kiss. your tongue glides over his, painting his taste buds with a heady mix of your saliva and his cum, feeling satoru whimper against you in response, the vibration sending shock waves through your body.

satoru feels your smirk print against his lips briefly before you break the kiss, your fingertips grazing over his tip. he looks up at you with starry eyes, a stupid smile relaxing on his flushed face. “thank you for letting me cum.”

it’s going to be a long night.

[katz-rambles]

Hello again, lovely writer! It's a new day, and I have a new idea for you. Especially since you did such a beautiful job bringing my previous ideas to life. Thank you for that <3

How about the ghoul of your choice being locked away in their room during their heats/ruts because they become a bit feral during that time, and what if reader accidently got locked with them ? How would that go down ?

(Again feel free to ignore this if you wish <3)

Hii! I'm so so glad you liked the others, that means so much to me!! I wanted to try something new with this one, so I've put them into headcannon form, so I can do multiple ghouls, so I apologize if it's not the best. This includes all the current ghouls/ghoulettes because why not.

(NSFW, ruts/heats, gn!reader for the most part but there is some fem!reader, reader gets tied up, some dub-con elements if you squint, theres a fuck-machine, threesome/gangbang mention, possessiveness, knotting, some dom!reader. I think this is it!)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

• Now we all know that he's already aggressive and ungodly horny,

Dewdrop/Sodo

• Now times that by 10. He goes insane during ruts.

• Humping everything, constantly hard, he's more grumpy and stompy than usual as well. All because he's horny and has blue balls lmfao.

• So.. now we've added his favorite person, you.

• He's on his knees. Begging for you to let him fuck you, breed you, touch you. Basically, anything his horny brain can come up with. (heavy on breeding, even if you can't get pregnant, he'll still try.)

• He has a constant possessiveness to him during his ruts, so once you're in there, you're not getting out until it's over. Don't expect to walk after.

• He has no glamor or mask on at all during his rut so if you really want to rile him up so he'll rail you, pull on his horns while he gives you head or tug on his tail. He'll go absolutely bat shit insane.

• He'll cover you in hickeys and bite marks so everyone knows you're his. Like I said, possessive.

• He'll knot you, and he won't stop knotting you until he thinks it's the one that'll get you round with his kits.

• I'm sure that if you ask nicely, he might sub for you during his rut. He hates to admit it, but he probably gets off on the thought of being a sub. Tie him up, sexually torture him, and humiliate him. He loves it.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• Where do I start.. he's going to he so whiney his whole rut. He might even spam call/text you because he needs you.

Rain

• Obviously, you're not going to give in, you know the rules.

• But if you did, by accident or on purpose, he's going to go insane.

• He'll do anything you ask of him. He gets off on your pleasure. But if you tease him, he may lose his patience.

• If he does lose his patience, he'll fuck you into the mattress, he might even tie you up if you're into that, he'll mark you like crazy... he's a horny bitch (just like me frfr.)

• So let's say you've found yourself with a Rain in a rut. Good luck. He'll rail you like there's no tomorrow, because to him, there's not, he thinks you will leave at any second so he won't stop until you physically can't anymore.

• His stamina is INSANE when he's in a rut.

• He could probably smell you from a mile away, so if you do accidentally find yourself locked in the same room as him, don't try and lie to him, or do.. who knows, maybe he'll punish you.

• If you don't have a dick, grab a strap on, he'll be the subbiest little bitch for you. (he's probably into fem doms). And he probably has a dildo/strap that he uses on himself anyways. He could probably cum just from the thought of you on top of him, and he will.

• Huge on your tits by the way. You're a guy, it doesn't matter, you're flat, he doesn't care, you have bigger tits, he's begging for you to ride him so he can watch them. He loves your tits.

• MARK HIM BACK. Please. He loves to feel you sink your teeth into him. He loves to see the marks the day after even more thought, a reminder of how he's going to pay you back with twice as many marks.

• Aftercare king, though. Even during a rut. I mean, you have to be in good shape if you're going to be the one to have his kits.. right?

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• Big boy, and not with just his height.

Mountain

• But if you happen to stumble upon a Mountain in a rut, it's not that someone's locked the door from the outside or something.. no, he's locked the door. You're not leaving until he's done with you.

• All this man is thinking about right now is how fucking hard he is, and how good you'd feel around him. So he's not going to be nice.

• He might degrade you.. but that's okay, because he'll apologize by fucking you until you're dumb.

• You better hope you're not wearing any expensive clothes, the second he gets his hands on your they're torn up and on the ground. He'll replace them when his rut is done, though, don't worry.

• Pull his hair. That's it. You want to get railed into oblivion, pull his hair. It's a one way ticket.

• He probably won't sub, but on the off chance he does, he will put up a fight. Now, if you've found yourself locked with Mountain in a rut and you want to keep your ability to walk, you can get him to sub for you, and he gets super sensitive when he does so, please, edge him.

• He'll knot you, and there's just so much. He'll whisper to you about how this'll be the knot that'll get you round with his kits.

• If you call him Sir, it could be out of fear/intimidation, or you're just teasing him, you're done for. There's no way you'll be able to walk after, so I wish you luck.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• Already horny ghoul, somehow, even hornier (is that even possible??) you're in for a wild ride (literally and figuratively).

Swiss

• You're in a room with him. Before you can even say anything, he'll have you pinned to the ground, and your clothes will be off.

• Mating press, missionary, cowgirl. Anything where he can see your face as he fucks you dumb you'll be put in, doesn't matter if your flexible or not, he'll find a way.

• You want to rile him up even more (again, is that even fucking possible?!) beg for him, get on your knees and beg. He will go insane, and you won't be able to walk, but it's not like he was planning to let you go. No, no, you're his now.

• If and when he knots you, it's inevitable he will, he will probably fall asleep with his cock half-hard inside you and if you fall asleep as well ans shuffle a bit with him inside you, sweetheart now he's wide awake and ready for round two.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• Omfg. He's so needy. He might as well be worshiping the ground you stand on, he loves you and he needs you.

Phantom

• He needs you to sit on his face, btw, now that he's in a rut it's just doubled.

• So you've found yourself in quite the predicament. You've found your way to a rut Phantom, so what's the next step (back to where you came from, turn around, and leave), honestly, just you acknowledging him during his rut could probably make him cum, he's that needy.

• He'll bend you over any and every surface known to man. Don't expect to be safe anywhere.

• If you're kind enough to help him through his rut, then he'll, probably get on one knee and propose, do anything you need him to as long as he gets to fuck you when you're done.

• Rub his horns, and he'll bust. Trust me.

• He's dominant during his rut, so don't expect normal subby, needy, Phantom. No, not you've got, dom, needy, and unbearably horny, Phantom whose prepared to stuff you full of his seed in every hole you'll let him.

• He's going to knot you. This isn't even a question. He will. It doesn't matter if you can't get pregnant because you don't have the proper biology, he will try his absolute hardest, and you won't complain because this means Phantom constantly breeding him, he has a breeding kink.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• I'm in love with her.

Cumulus

• She's quite dominant. She has a strap on, probably one of the double-ended ones, too.

• If you offer to use it on her, she might just go crazy. I hope your stamina is good because she won't be letting you go for a while.

• If you have female anatomy, scissor her. I beg of you, she'll beg you too. He might reward you by eating you out after..

• Her tits are ungodly sensitive during her ruts, so any type of touch on them, and she'll immediately be on top of you.

• Please let her tie you up. You'll look so pretty tied up and begging for her.

• She's going to mark you, so don't be alarmed when you see the dark marks the next day. And she will mark you anywhere she can, your neck, thighs, tits, anywhere.

• If you're good she might get Cirrius to fuck you along side her, and don't worry, Cirrius is just as good, and she's mean so you better be ready. (I'm head over heels for both of them, I love women.)

• She will overstimulate you until it hurts. She's just so mean sometimes.

• She will make you squirt. That's her goal. Even in a rut, she's still determined to see you squirt.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• She's mean. That's it.

Cirrius

• She'll tie you up and attach a vibrator to you and she will fuck herself as she watches you writhe.

• She might even put a gag on you if you start to get too loud.

• Once she gets her hands on you, she won't let you go until she's had her fill.

• If you call her mommy, get ready for a night full of fun because, baby, you've just fucked yourself. She won't let up. Her stamina is insane, and it combats Rains.

• So, if you ever find yourself locked in a room with Cirrius in a rut, don't expect to leave any time soon. Even after her ruts over, she might keep you there.

• If you're being good for her, maybe just maybe if she's in the mood for sharing, she'll get Cumulus or Swiss in there. (maybe even both)

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• I unfortunately don't know too much about her, so I apologize if she's ooc.

Aurora

• She's got a pretty firey personality as it is, so now she's got that personality AND an unbearable feeling of being constantly horny, and you'll be the only one on her mind.

• Okay.. now you're with her, she might sub..? If you ask nicely, that is.

• But she will also fuck you dumb with a double-ended dildo. So be ready for a wild night. She has a bunch of things you've only heard of, and she plans to use them.

• It's not a question that she'll tie you up. We already know she will. But if you're into it, she might put you on a fuck-machine while she rides your face until she's satisfied.

• You can probably turn the tables and switch positions, and if you do, expect her to be loud. It's okay though, she sounds so pretty.

• She will scissor you. She probably can for hours. So by the end of her rut, you'll be sore and marked, and everything will hurt. But it will be worth it.

[cower-before-power]

Rest Easy, My Love

Pairing: Astarion x Fem Reader

Summary: Astarion is haunted by his painful memories more often than not, but you are always there to shelter him with your love.

Word Count: approx 1200

TW: Angst, hurt/comfort, allusions to Astarion's past, very very brief mention of Astarion unintentionally hurting reader, nightmares, slight dom reader/sub Astarion vibes (but nothing sexual), blood drinking

A/N: Had to write a little comfort piece for everyone's favourite vampire. He deserves peace and love and one big hug!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

The first whimper comes softly.

So soft, had you not already been awake, you wouldn’t have heard it. Your skin prickles, and you freeze, ears straining hard for another one.

It comes not a moment later, still hushed but more plaintive. A quiet gasp of pain follows it. You set your water cup down on the bedside table, eyebrows knitting together.

You’d left your lover trancing peacefully not 5 minutes prior, your parched throat calling for a trip to the kitchen for a drink. In that short time, his pleasant memories must have transformed, morphed into the horrors he’d suffered at the hands of his former master.

Even after months next to him, it doesn’t make it any easier. Or your heart bleed any less.

Your body turns towards your pale elf, his marble brow creased, his perfect mouth twisted. Reminders to approach this softly flit through your mind. You’d learned early on in your courtship that a loud voice and a rough shake was not the solution.

(Part of you was sure Astarion has never forgiven himself for that night, for when he awoke from shadows to find you gasping for breath beneath him. You hadn’t blamed him for a second, but his self loathing was a trench dug deep, and you could only fill it so much with your reassurances.)

“My love,” you call softly, gently. “My love, come back to me.”

Your hands tremble with the urge to touch him, but you restrain yourself. Astarion is mumbling now, pleas sewn in between gasps, fists closing tightly around the cool silk sheets. His whole being shakes with fear and despair.

Gods above, if you could murder Cazador all over again, you’d do it happily.

“Astarion,” you raise your voice the tiniest pinch, just enough to coax him, “wake up.”

The man beside you suddenly jerks upright, a harsh sob escaping his lips as blood red eyes fly open. He gulps lungfuls of unneeded air, and if he had a working heart, you’re sure it would be galloping fiercely.

“It’s only me, my love,” you coo, hands up in a gesture of peace. “It’s only me, and I won’t hurt you.”

“Cazador-“ Astarion chokes out, eyes darting wildly around the darkened room. “Cazador, no-“

“He’s dead, precious,” you affirm. “Dead and gone. There’s only me and you, safe and warm in our bed. Just us and the love we share.”

Red eyes focus on your face, and the glassy sheen begins to recede. “Dead?”

Slowly, carefully, you extend an open palm to him. He only flinches slightly-an improvement wrought through time and trust. Though it still stakes your heart. “Yes, he’s dead. Many months now.”

A single dewdrop slips down Astarion’s cheek. His eyes are wet with tears now, memories fading into the background. It is safe now to cup his face in your palm, to brush the moisture away with the pad of your thumb, to bestow on him a tender touch he needs. To your relief, he accepts your affection with a nuzzle into your palm.

“Darling?” his usually rich voice is hoarse and broken with pain. “You-You’re here?”

“It’s me,” you stroke his cheek reassuringly. “I’m here, precious. Right beside you. Always.”

Your arms open wide like the gates of the Heavens, and your vampire collapses into them.

Every sob that tears from him rips you apart; every tear that soaks your skin drowns you in sorrowful anger. How dare that cretin hurt your angel so? How dare he etch such monstrous events into Astarion’s soul? Cazador deserves to burn. You damn him to the very depth of the Hells, and even an eternity there isn’t enough to atone.

“Shhh, shhh,” you croon, fingers running through silver hair as your love weeps into your neck. “Shhh, precious boy. It’s alright. You’re safe with me. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

You kiss his hair, stroke his ears, squeeze him gently in your embrace. While most of you rages and shatters, a part thrills at the display of trust you are shown. Moons ago, you’d get nothing but a huff and some clipped words- a denial of the need for comfort. But now, now you are allowed to see, to hear, to touch Astarion at his most vulnerable. And more so, you are granted the privilege of easing his agony.

Astarion’s teeth scrape against the soft skin of your neck, his hands clutching at your chest desperately.

“I need-I’m sorry, please-“ he gasps, unable to voice his desires. But you know him inside and out, and you know what he needs.

You shake your head. “Never apologize,” you say, baring your neck to him. “Take what you need, my love. I am yours, wholly and completely. Take of me, and forget.”

Astarion nearly whines with gratitude, and sinks his fangs into your soft flesh. Like a babe at its mother’s breast, he sucks to soothe, less for the gush of blood down his gullet and more for the peace your taste brings. You taste and smell of home, of repose from every dark thing that’s ever haunted him. It’s a gift you’d never dream of denying him.

“That’s it,” you whisper, nails scraping gently against his scalp, “that’s it, precious boy. My good, precious boy. My wonderful love, my little star worthy of everything good and bright in this world. My heart, my joy, my Astarion.”

His body shudders at your praise. You continue to murmur it softly to him as he drinks, cocooning him in your love as best you can. Maybe you are no doctor, no healer able to stitch wounds and mend gashes, but you will bathe every hurt in your devotion most blessed. And healing will continue.

After a few moments, Astarion slows his gulping, his delirious pants becoming softer, gentler. His teeth detach but he does not, his now warm mouth pressing thankful kisses into your neck.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he begs, and his arms wind around you like twin vices. “Don’t ever leave me alone.”

“Never,” you vow, and you’d swear it on all the graves of your ancestors. “You will always have my love, precious. And I’ll always be here to chase away the dark. No god, man or monster will ever be able to tear me from you.”

Your vampire sighs, and the sound is full of shaky contentment. He sinks further into your softness, eyes slipping close as exhaustion takes its hold.

“I love you,” he murmurs, a last sentiment before he succumbs to actual sleep. You whisper your own feelings back, willing every syllable to etch itself into his very being. That your lover would be able to feel and grasps the depths of your devotion. That four little words can watch over him and protect him and turn his dreams sweet.

You know when he wakes again, none of this will be spoken of. He’ll act like this didn’t happen, like his rest was nothing but bliss. He’ll kiss you awake, teasing and light, his playful demeanor firmly back in place. But there will be love and gratitude in his eyes, and your own will affirm you’ll do it all over again, and again, and again. Until the dark no longer cuts, until the memories fade and burn to ash, until his smile always reaches his eyes.

For in your love, Astarion will come to rest easy.

[endless-weightless]

Can we get more ghoul headcannons pls!! The smuttier the better 🩷

AHHHH FIRST REQUEST!! and thank you for this because I LOVE writing smutty ghoul hcs.

not rlly proofread soz

CHARACTERS: Sodo/Dewdrop, Phantom, Aether, Rain, Mountain, Swiss, Omega, Ifrit

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut (obvi), gn!reader, CNC, monsterfucking?, size kink, dacryphilia, bondage, ghouls have mating cycles now bc i said so, pegging, anal, breeding kink, bdsm

🎸 Sodo

Will always fuck you to the point where you’re practically screaming and begging for him because he practically gets high off the ego boost.

He doesn’t mind whatsoever about having to do most if not all the work. The best reward he could ask for is seeing you all fucked out and crying his name.

When Sodo's in heat, he isn't just horny, he's also really fucking aggressive for no good reason 😭. He's snappy, grumpy, stompier than usual and it's all because he's got blue balls LMFAO.

Because of his angry mood, anything you do that pisses him off could result in some rough sex while he growls at you about how you've pissed him off. But, there's a small chance you could put him in his place because he's surprisingly into subbing when it means he gets to put up a fight (consensually, of course).

When he does sub, he's the biggest fucking brat imaginable. It's a good thing he gets so sensitive when he's punished because he cannot listen to an order for the love of everything unholy.

Hates when he can't be handsy with you. He just can't get enough of your body so if you really want to torture him then tie up his hands behind him.

🎸 Phantom

He’s super into puppy play but is absolutely terrified of admitting it and just prays that you’ll suggest something like collaring him so he can bring it up.

This hc and the next one are fem!reader (kinda?) ones but hang in there. Phantom is fucking infatuated with your tits. If your riding him he’s staring at them bouncing like he’s hypnotised.

Also loves fucking your tits regardless of their size because tits are tits and they all look beautiful (but yours are always his favourite).

So obedient it’s adorable. He never acts up around you and if he does he’s on his knees immediately and apologising profusely.

Constantly asking if you feel good even when he’s moments away from cumming and is overstimulated.

Goes non-verbal when he gets too worked up. All he can get out are whimpers, sniffles and small nods or shaking of his head. It’s hard to tell if he needs to tap out so you have to check up on him and be extra attentive.

🎸 Aether

Gets super aroused when he smells you, especially if he’s in heat.

When he’s fucking you he likes whispering in your ear about how he’s going to fuck a baby into you while you dumbly nod as his thrusts become more and more rough.

Gets a little too turned on when you wrap your hands around his horns because they just look so much bigger than your hands.

Wanna give Aether an instant boner? Wear a thin sundress or loosely buttoned shirt around him with no underwear on and watch him writhe in his seat when he picks up on the scent of your underwear being absent.

He's always down to fuck in the church part of the abbey. The risk of getting caught or being seen/heard is thrilling to him and the ministry encouraging sex is just a bonus.

Loves a good bit of cockwarming when you're both too sleepy to fuck or he just wants to torture you.

🎸 Rain

Goes absolutely feral for some sloppy and messy sex. He just loves seeing the two covered in each others cum and arousal.

Prefers being marked rather than marking you. The hickeys and bruises he gets to see the next day always make his stomach backflip as he imagines what you’ll do tonight.

Rain isn't a huge fan of seeing you in pain during sex. Him however...

It's not entirely kink related, it's kinda just a very fucked up way of showing his devotion to you that also happens to get him off.

I honestly think he wouldn't absolutely despise the idea of being caught having sex. Like in a sense where someone accidentally walks into your room while you two are fucking and not being out in public.

He's very big on you belonging to him and him belonging to you. Not in a sub/dom dynamic way but rather being each others mate. I could go on and on about him during his mating cycles but I'll save that for another fic...

🥁 Mountain

One of his favourite things to do is to use his elemental powers to grow vines to use as restraints. And if you’re into cnc or just like surprises, he’ll do it when you least expect it.

Touching his horns or tail is a dangerous game to play because it’ll always end with him above you fucking you until you see stars and there’s tears welling in your eyes.

Has a giant mirror right across from his bed that he makes you face while you fuck in reverse cowgirl just so he can see how tiny you look compared to him.

Calling him ‘sir’ is a one way ticket to overstimulation because once it slips out of you he won’t stop fucking you any time soon.

He doesn't like having to be verbal with his commands, when you see him gesture you to come sit on his lap, you better listen.

If you ever want to see him turn as submissive as he possibly can be, start scratching at the base of his horns and behind his ears. He won't go down easily but he'll still let out a few somewhat pornographic moans.

🎤 Swiss

He needs his cock stepped on every once in a while, preferably by a nice pair of stilettos or latex boots.

Practically has no limits. He’s into pretty much everything you can think of and is willing to try anything if it makes you happy and gets you off.

He’s primarily focused on your pleasure but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like being taken care of.

Every heat cycle for Swiss turns all his dials up from 0 to 100 and it's almost scary. His urge to breed isn't even that strong, he just really needs to be fucked so he'll shut up.

He’s usually really enthusiastic about subbing, but sometimes he feels the need to be a bratty little shit so you’ll take out your anger on him and he can forget about everything wrong with the world for a solid few hours.

He's a biter, that's for sure. The intensity of the bite depends on your comfort but if you give him the green light he'll start biting so hard he draws enough blood to have you lightheaded.

🎸 Omega

Although I said Omega is a hard dom and a mean one too in my previous post about the ghouls, I don’t think he’d be opposed to subbing every once in a hunter’s moon.

Loves having you just ride his thigh while he practices guitar. He gets to see you all needy and not be able to be affectionate to him because of the obnoxious Hagström Fantomen blocking your torso from his and the lack of attention.

Wouldn’t mind cuckolding if it involved Terzo. Also wouldn’t mind if Terzo simply ordered the two of you around while he jerked off at the sight.

Him being a mean and hard dom doesn't make him cruel, he still praises you when you behave well. If you've managed to take his cock on top of the edging and torture, he'll softly smother your face and neck in kisses for doing such a good job while he continues to thrust into you.

(AFAB reader hc) If you ever find yourself horny yet on your period do not fret because Omega gives absolutely zero (0) fucks! He'll even eat you out if you want him to.

Adores roleplay, especially if it involves corruption. One of his favourite scenes to act out is for you to be an innocent mortal summoning a ghoul from hell not knowing what ghouls desire once they're on earth.

🎸 Ifrit

He already gets hard when he’s giving head but if you grab onto his horns to pull him closer and he chokes on your dick/suffocates between your thighs he might cum untouched because oh Lucifer it feels good.

He likes fucking fast and rough, regardless of the dynamic. He likes seeing the bruises, feeling that fuzziness in his limbs and not being able to think when he’s fucking.

Will randomly communicate how he's feeling throughout the day by hugging you from behind and pressing his hard, clothed cock into your backside. Zero shame whatsoever.

Loves a good bit of thigh riding. He doesn't mind who's riding who's thigh, he just likes the feeling of it.

You can always tell when he's close to cumming because his tail will start to flick erratically while his claws extend for a split second.

Ifrit isn't afraid to use his tail to jerk you off. Don't act surprised when you feel something wrap around your cock or the spade of his tail flicking over your clit.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

that's all lovelies!

[sunmoonjune]

storm clouds at midnight

pairing: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [werewolf! au]

warnings: minors dni!! extremely suggestive themes!! there is no explicit smut, cursing, but it’s probably the closest to smut I’ve written, predator/prey, chasing, suggestive content is 100% consensual by all parties, vampires are assholes, fear, blood, biting, minor mentions of reader not liking their body (no reference to size/shape), the boys are dirty-minded, a lot of teasing, dirty talk, a little choking, sub!reader, seriously this is probably mostly definitely smut so minors dniI!! there are member x member relationships in this

word count: 26.3k (ok I know I’m insane)

a/n: ok,,, listen I was supposed to write like four other things and not this... but maxident came out and I've been in my skz feels sooo this is the result. also yes! this is in the same universe as dewdrops at dawn (two different places with two different views of the supernatural) also,,, I am physically incapable of writing non-soulmate au’s it seems 

again, this work is considered as suggestive, please do not interact if you are a minor. 

You knew the wolves were there from the moment you moved in. 

Even despite the little power you possessed, you could recognize the enchanting magical aura that lingered in the depths of the dark forest. Without a doubt in your mind, you knew that werewolves resided in the trees beyond your home. In the small clearing at the edge of the woodside town, you could feel the surge of power that marked the boundary of their territory. Despite lacking the keen senses of their kind, you can still feel the border flicker with their strength when you toe the line. 

The night after you first moved into the little cabin on the borders of town, your entire being could sense the moment the wolves descended on your new home. 

Eight forms hid in the darkness of the trees – keeping their bodies shadowed under the cover of night. You could feel their aura and their magic as they investigated your presence. They were scanning for trouble - that you could tell. As a witch, moving into the borders of their territory was bound to draw suspicion. 

Though you lacked immense quantities of magic, you still had the thrum in your veins and the swell in your chest that indicated your link to the supernatural. A witch was a witch, through and through - no matter how much magic they possessed. Despite the disdain of your spellbinding kin, the comfort of the sentiment allowed you to continue practicing using little magic you possessed. 

It’s long after midnight when you feel the auras descend upon your clearing. Eight werewolves, their strength and power undeniable as they linger on their own border. You can almost feel their eyes flickering over your body as they scan your small home. Their sharp pupils leave no belonging untouched. Each of your possessions is investigated for magical inclination. Despite the foreboding indication of their pack’s fortitude, there was some lingering sense of excitement when you felt their eyes on your form. 

You could not blame their caution. When another supernatural being moves into the borders of their territory, it was more than justifiable to investigate their prowess. However, it was not their discretion that caught your attention. 

Something fizzled in the air between you and the wolves, simmering as if connecting your emotions to the pack. It sets your body alight - every inch of your skin flickering with heat and your nerves humming with a warmth you could not place. In some way you did not yet understand, you were connected to this wolfish pack. 

Setting aside some fauna and other potion ingredients to be stored, you felt goosebumps prick under your skin when their gaze turned to your form. It was not an unpleasant feeling; rather one of unbridled curiosity. The notion of their eyes on your skin made you tremble with waves of both excitement and nervousness. They collided with each other in a storm of untapped emotion, and you vaguely wondered why the wolves’ presence made you react so strongly. 

When you carefully made your way out your back door, your slow steps were indicated by the crackle of leaves beneath your feet and the magical thrum in the air. You could feel the wolves’ apprehension in the way their own aura fidgeted, but you continued into your garden nevertheless. Under their direct gazes, something in your body hummed with delight. It was a little strange, and a more sensible part of yourself questioned the feeling. However, the magical pull overpowered that observation, and you found yourself peering into the woods - hoping to catch a glimpse of the wolves that caught your attention. 

They kept themselves well hidden. Your human eyes could not see as well as them in the dark, and you were left without a grasp of their forms. A lingering sensation of disappointment settled in your stomach, your lower lip pulling into your teeth in a pout at the feeling. 

The notion did not bother you as you understood their apprehension towards you, even despite whatever lingered in the air between you. With your limited ability, you pulled gently on the magical connection with your power. It simmered pleasantly between you, like a string that could not be severed. Pulled tight by the grasp of your magic, you felt your body shiver when one of the wolves responded with a deep growl. 

It was not a threatening sound - not necessarily. The sound rippled through the atmosphere with an air of warning. The leader of the pack was not comfortable with you messing around with magic upon your first meeting. The sensation rippled through your body and you felt your chest shake with his power. 

Holding your hands up with your palms out, you hummed quietly with apology. You had no intention of angering the wolves, simply wanting to understand the sensation that seemed to pull you closer. The sound seems to soothe the tension, hackles slowly lowering and magic softening in the air around you. 

From beneath the depths of the dark, wooden thicket, the pack leader stood strongly in front of his seven pack members. Chan had led his partners to the borders of their territory upon feeling the magical thrum of a witch in the air. He could sense the change in the atmosphere when you had arrived in their little town. Even without the bond that simmered between you and the eight wolves, Chan was exceptionally adept at deciphering the magical aura of supernatural creatures - a skill that came with being the Alpha of his pack. 

The shining silver of his wolfish coat was difficult to keep hidden under the moonlight, but Chan was careful. From behind the trees, he and his partners could easily investigate the homely wooden cottage the new witch had sequestered. 

His chest hummed with a pleasant feeling, one he knew connected him to the same witch they had come to examine. Though difficult, he buried it deep in his chest. There would be time to explore the connection later. 

“Careful, Jinnie,” his voice echoed through the link connecting each of the wolves. He addressed the dark form of Hyunjin, who had broken the line of his partners behind him. Though he kept low to the ground, Hyunjin had crept forward, seemingly very interested in the witch whose magic thrummed in the air around them. 

The dark fur of Hyunjin rippled under the alabaster shine of the moon, illuminating the pure muscle of his form. Hyunjin was one of the largest of their pack; his ebony coat standing tall over the bodies of his partners. He huffed at his leader’s call, seeming to shiver as another pulse echoed down the new connection between the wolves and you. 

Sending Chan a remarkably longing look for a wolf, Hyunjin backed away from the edge of the forest. He settles beside Felix, the younger shifting to rest his weight against his lover. The lighter brown color of Felix stood out against Hyunjin, and the darker wolf dropped his head to brush his nose against Felix’s muzzle. Inhaling a wave of his partner’s scent, Hyunjin relaxed some of his tensed muscles. Feeling some of the enticing turmoil seep from his form, Hyunjin let some of his own weight settle against Felix, knowing the younger savors any affection his lovers adore to provide. 

“She smells s’good, Hyung,” Jeongin, the youngest of the pack, rumbles. He stands at the rear beside Seungmin, both wolves a dark walnut color. Though they’re close, the elder of the two werewolves is less inclined to treasure affection. Seungmin leans away from the typical touch that his mates seem to adore. However, Chan and the others have known the wolf far too long to know that Seungmin only pretends to hate physical affection. He may whine when Chan wraps his body around him, but the eldest can feel the way Seungmin sinks into his form and how the bond between them warms. 

Chan’s only response to Jeongin is another hum. 

The silver wolf is too busy scanning your body, from where you have stepped out of your house to approach the tree line. Chan can tell that you know he and his partners are there. The bond wavers between you and Chan has to resist the pleasant shiver that thrums through him. Some of the others are unable to fight back the feeling, and Chan can feel Felix and Han’s excitement spike from their connection. 

The eight wolves stand at the ready. With your form slowly approaching the woods, another thrum of excitement echoes down both ends of the bond and this time it’s Minho that has to resist stepping forward. Whatever connection lingers between you is strong. The combination of your sweet scent and the magical connection is beginning to drive Minho mad. He swears he can almost feel the touch of your skin on his own despite the distance that separates you. 

As second-in-command, Minho stands at Chan’s side. The two are tense, but not out of apprehension – it seems all eight of the wolves are feeling the same thrum from your bond. 

At the edge of your yard, you slow to a stop. In the chilly night air, you rub your hands together for a little warmth, but find that whatever magic simmers in the air has kept you quite hot. Shifting on your feet, you attempt to find the eyes of any of the wolves that you can sense in front of you. 

You keep at least twenty yards between you and the wolves. Despite whatever connection you may have, you do not know how they will react if you approach closer. They are cautious of your magic - you can tell. Most supernatural creatures are. Though the notion saddens you, you can understand the apprehension; witches are typically solitary beings who don’t mix well with other supernatural creatures. 

Unable to find the irises of one of the wolves, you sigh and shift your own pupils to the floor beneath your feet. You mull over a few options in your head, attempting to find a solution. You want to show the wolves that you don’t mean any harm - that you’re more than willing to explore this newfound bond that seems to simmer in the air like it’s own magic. 

When an idea strikes you, you’re almost embarrassed to consider it. Heat rises to your skin and you feel a pulse of something hum in the air. 

Shifting on your feet, you lower your body a fraction in an attempt to appear smaller. Inclining your head, you tilt your chin to expose the skin of your bare neck: a show of submission. It’s awkward, but if you want to appeal to the wolves, you may as well act like one, you suppose. 

You feel a little odd as you stand, but after a solitary moment, the pleasant growl in response makes your knees weak. The sound seems to combine with a wave of heat and excitement that rolls through your body. Without even seeing the wolves with your own eyes, they seem to have a grip on both your mind and  body that you cannot fathom. 

From behind the trees, Chan has taken a step forward. At your show of submission, the pack leader cannot help the shiver of pride that echoes through him. Heat fills his form at the act, and the growl escapes his chest before he can stop it. He longs to break from the tree line. Every fiber in his being wants to step out and feel the skin of your form beneath his fingers. With your neck inclined towards him, proudly showing him the skin of your jugular, Chan’s fangs seem to press tight against his gums. They ache to sink into your skin – to mark you as his own, just as he has marked his partners, who stand at his side. It’s a little strange, as this is your first meeting, but Chan supposes the mating bond has something to do with it. He did, after all, mark Minho after their first meeting. 

Despite the heat that simmers under his skin, Minho can’t resist the chuckle that bursts forth at his Alpha’s reaction. Your show has affected their leader the most, as he is the head of the pack. Though he still feels the same pride and longing that fills Chan’s chest, it’s of a lesser degree and Minho can control the arousal that heats in his chest. 

“Careful, Chan-hyung,” Hyunjin playfully teases, throwing his leader’s previous words back at him. The intense aura of Chan’s emotions thrum in the bond between the pack, enticing all eight of the wolves to their Alpha’s dominance.

Turning to his partner, Chan snaps his jaws teasingly at the younger. Though the action is violent, Chan is careful not to harm any of his lovers with his sharp teeth - even when his dominance is questioned. 

“Shut it, Hyunjin. Or s’you I’ll sink my teeth into.” 

At his side, Minho and Changbin huff in silent laughter, enjoying the commotion at Hyunjin and their leader’s expense. Hyunjin is not affected by Chan’s threat, seeming to purr at the response. He steps forward with his head held high and sets his sights on his eldest lover. 

“Promise?” Hyunjin’s coo answers. 

He sends a flirtatious bolt of arousal down the bond he shares with Chan, feeling his entire body shiver pleasantly when his pack leader responds with a salacious look and a short, tempered growl. Chan’s response insights a promise - one he’s sure to fulfill when they return home. 

The other pack members huff good-naturedly, feeling the sweet effects of their partner’s banter warm their own chests. Minho enjoys watching Chan struggle with the emotions that simmer under his skin. Of course, it’s not in an antagonizing manner. Minho simply finds delight in challenging his pack leader's dominance – not in terms of pack order, but in more indecent manners. It’s always a battle between the two eldest wolves, and it’s usually difficult to determine who’s on the winning side. They both enjoy the thrill that comes with the frisky bickering. 

Changbin is the one to shift their attention. His eyes have not left your body, his senses trained pointedly on you. He’s laser-focused, analyzing each curve of your form and delighting in the way his wolf shivers at your scent. Darkened irises track your movement, inhaling a deep wave of your warm scent and enjoying the way his muscles relax when it wraps around his senses. 

“What do we do, Hyung?” his voice fills their heads. Shifting on his paws, Changbin itches to lunge into the clearing and claim you for his own. He promises he’ll share you, eventually – his other mates can wait their turn. 

Jisung trots up to Hyunjin’s flank, occupying the space on the opposite side of Felix. There’s a little tension between them – some sort of never ending love-rivalry making the two boys constant competitors. The younger chestnut colored wolf nudges Hyunjin with his shoulder. Hyunjin responds with a playful snap, already understanding what his younger partner is thinking. Jisung enjoys a chase as much as he enjoys competition, and Hyunjin knows he’s ready for both. 

Chan turns his focus back to your body. You’ve raised your head from its position, unsure of the wolves’ reaction. There’s a furrow in your brow and your lower lip is pulled into your teeth. You look apprehensive, as if their reaction is unclear. 

Standing tall and holding his head high, Chan lets his muscles relax from their tensed position. The heat still burns beneath his skin and a longing ache settles into his chest, but Chan knows it’s too early to pursue you as he and the others wish. You’re not wolfish as they are. 

If he and the others step out of the thicket of the trees, Chan fears they’ll scare you off. The courting customs of wolves are much different from humans - even if they are supernatural creatures of their own. If Chan is right - as he usually is - you may have an inkling of the bond, and that thought is enough to comfort him for now. 

For the meantime, Chan can only savor the waves of your scent as they reach him and his partners. It will be difficult to pull the others away, but Chan knows he can turn them towards each other to cope with the new yearning feeling that has settled in their chests. 

As he watches your hands drop to your sides with a wary look, a throb pangs in his chest. Heart surging beneath his ribs, Chan aches to make you smile once again. The apprehension on your face makes you look sad, and the expression makes him ache. 

Stepping forward with determination, Chan’s silver coat shines under the moonlight as he takes a single step towards the tree line. Felix yips once, a sound of mild concern for his eldest partner. Chan comforts his younger with a bolt of warmth down their bond, rumbling a purr to sate the sandy colored wolf. 

From across the yard, the gnawing feeling of trepidation sinks into your stomach. Despite the single sound from the pack leader and the wave of heat, you receive no other response from the wolves. The silence settles into the air and you begin to wonder if you’ve made a mistake. Your stomach twists as the moments of unsettling quiet sink into your mind. 

Then, you feel waves of warmth sink into you. A comforting blanket of affection sinks into your chest and your muscles melt into mush under the weight of the feeling. Your chest fills with delight and you nearly hum with the warmth heating you from the inside. The magic thrums in the air again, and you can tell the feeling was sent from the wolves. The sentiment strikes you with reassurance. 

In the darkness of the trees, you raise your eyes to the thicket of branches and greenery that bar your sight of the pack. Their magical aura still hums strongly, and you know all eight of the wolves still sit just behind the fauna, watching you. With the comfort from the pack leader, you raise your eyes to the dense woodland. Feeling sweet affection buzz under your skin, your irises scan the trees and feel a bolt of surprise strike you.

Behind the towering, coniferous trees, you catch a flash of silver. 

Shifting your gaze, you raise your sight to follow the shining color. Excitement fills your chest, settling atop the warm affection the wolves have given you. Then, from the darkness you catch a single, fleeting flash of onyx. 

Chan steps forward just enough. The alabaster moonlight illuminates just enough of his eyes and silver fur for you to set your sights on the barest glimpse of his darkened irises – his own act of reassurance. 

Your breath seems to leave your chest at the sight. You can’t see more than a single iris and the tiniest peek of glimmering fur, but it’s more than enough to leave you speechless. The glimpse, though short, is a message of the pack leader’s own. As he steps back into the trees, letting the darkness submerge his form once more, you understand. 

The pack leader has accepted you. 

You may not understand the waves of heat that suddenly fill your being, but their presence is a comfort you did not know you craved. Something in the air between you and the eight wolves hums violently and you find yourself reveling in its warmth. The longing surges with excitement, and you know the pack leader has incited a new challenge. You know enough about wolves and their customs to understand what will follow. 

It lingers in the atmosphere between you and the wolves and you nearly shiver with the thrill of this new adventure. 

The chase is on. 

Hyunjin and Jisung are the first. 

Three days after your first meeting, with the excited heat still warm in your chest, you venture into the wolves’ territory. Potions set aside for the evening, orders packed and cafe closed, you finally give into the yearning that has thrummed under your skin since that night. You could only take so much of the heat before you knew you would succumb to it.  

You don’t venture far into the woodlands, just a few hundred yards of dense trees lie between you and your little cottage. The air smells of coniferous pines and towering oaks. The chilly air settles into your lungs and you savor the clean scent. It feels freeing to explore the forest in the dark. All traces of apprehension and fear are wiped away with the presence of the wolves. This is their territory; you know you are safe as long as you remain inside their borders. 

Treading gracefully through the roots of trees and fallen pine cones, your thoughts are swept away by the rising excitement that begins to surge in your mind. You know the consequences that will follow your actions. 

You step into wolf territory, you are bound to be pursued. 

The thought is not frightening, but rather tantalizing. You are more than delighted to discover which of the eight wolves will come after you. With the enchanting bond that has settled between you and the pack, you know they would not hurt you for entering their territory. In fact, you know the consequences for your intrusion would be more enticing. 

The thought makes you shiver in delight. 

You understand that the wolves have marked you. There is no physical stain, but you know they have imprinted something to claim you for themselves. The bond is reciprocated, and you welcome the thought of the connection between you and the wolves. The thought of developing the relationship between you is exciting, and you want to see where it takes you. 

They wouldn't pursue you outside their own territory, you have learned. In the three days after your first meeting, they would never venture beyond their own borders. Every night, at least two wolves would settle at the tree line - waiting for something you did not understand. Sometimes they paced, impatient in their silence. On other nights, they stood solitary and quiet, keeping their eyes trained to your cottage as they waited for something – something you did not yet understand. 

On the third day, you finally deciphered their motive. 

The werewolves were not able to follow you outside their borders. Beyond the bounds of their territory, they were unable to shift into their wolfish forms, tied to the laws of the supernatural town in which you resided. Though it was occupied by more mythical beings than ordinary humans, there were still regulations in place to obscure the reality of supernatural creatures. They could not shift in front of humans. Outside their lands, they could not pursue you as they wanted, restricted by the laws of the land. In addition, despite the challenge incited by their pack leader, the wolves were courteous. They would wait for your acceptance before they started the chase.

So instead, they waited for you. 

When you ventured into the bounds of their land, you finally welcomed the unspoken challenge: they could have you if they could catch you. 

The chase incited a thrill, and you were excited to finally begin this new adventure. Aroused tension settled in your chest, and you buzzed with elation. Heat simmered between your thighs as you thought of what would occur should they catch you. Feeling your skin warm with embarrassed excitement, you shivered as you thought of the possibilities. 

You felt a little odd when you thought too hard about the situation, but something about the magical bond between you and the pack and the delight of a new adventure made you want to give into the primal urges. With the promise of something new, you felt an unexplained urge to pursue this new relationship as the wolves would. You wanted to explore their mating customs as much as your own, and the new discoveries made you buzz with heat. 

As you settled into a small clearing a few hundred yards from the one you resided, you slowed to a stop and scanned your surroundings. Magic thrummed in the air, and you knew the wolves were well aware of your presence. Regardless of the distance between you, you could feel traces of their emotions as if they were your own. 

It’s only a few moments later you feel the magical aura of two wolves. 

Hyunjin and Jisung were on border patrol that evening. 

They had been scouting the bounds of their territory as usual. Keeping an eye out for any changes and any new threats to enter their land, they walked with purpose and strength. Jisung, though still vigilant, was messing around as usual. The younger was inclined to teasing and playing around with his partners to reduce tension and fill the silence. 

When they’d first met, Hyunjin and Jisung had not been on good terms, and the younger’s playful nature had irritated Hyunjin. However, years of courting later, it was now one of the aspects Hyunjin treasured most. Though he fed into the playful rivalry, often butting heads with his younger partner, it was all in good fun. 

Jisung bumps purposefully into Hyunjin again, laughing with a yip when Hyunjin attempts to sink his teeth into the chestnut wolf’s neck in retaliation. It was difficult to not give into primal instincts when they messed around in wolf form. The urge to establish his dominance was strong, and Hyunjin almost nearly gave into temptation. He wanted to sink his teeth into his lover’s muzzle and stand over him with his strength and dominance surging beneath his skin. 

However, they were on duty. There were more important matters to attend to than sating their desires. 

“Hannie” Hyunjin playfully warned, the domineering sound echoing through the bond. 

The sound only made Jisung more excited. It always started the same. Jisung would tease Hyunjin until he snapped, and the two would give into the grasp of a carnal rivalry to sort their differences. 

Jisung hummed through their connection. He was still vigilant, keeping his senses turned to their borders as he should, but the excitement of his partner still pushed against the forefront of his mind. 

“What are you going to do, Hyung?” Jisung playfully taunted, stepping away from Hyunjin as his teeth attempted to close in on his scruff. “Aha! You missed!” 

It’s almost comical to watch Hyunjin’s wolf form roll his eyes. 

Continuing their patrol with Jisung’s taunts, a subtle whiff of scent stops Hyunjin in his tracks. The smell filters through his senses and the darker wolf is frozen still with his heart stuttering. 

“Hyunjin?” 

Jisung stops aside his lover, not understanding his sudden halt. He drops his nose to the dirt, smelling for whatever has startled his partner. Suddenly a little apprehensive, Jisung drops the teasing mood to shift into a ready stance. He inhales a wave of pine trees and traces of woodland creatures, filtering through the scents to find whatever has halted his lover. 

Then, Jisung finds it. 

Your scent filters into his senses and Jisung feels his body tense. Muscles tightening with preparation, the chestnut wolf understands Hyunjin’s halt. The excitement slowly filters into his mind, filling the bond between him and Hyunjin, 

You’ve accepted the challenge. 

They’re now free to pursue you as they wish. 

Hyunjin feels his stomach swell with a wave of salacious thrill. Your scent filters through his head and Hyunjin swears he’s never smelled anything more tantalizing. It’s as if you were teasing him with whiffs of your scent, enticing him and his partners to the chase. Hyunjin feels his body shake with the thought and his knees are weak with that weight of the bond. 

“Hannie,” Hyunjin murmurs, voice dripping with purring lust. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 

He turns his head to face his lover, both their irises darkened with excitement. Bodies filled with the thrill that comes with a chase, Hyunjin feels a smirk pull at his lips. Jisung returns a similar look, sending a bolt of salacious heat down their own bond to make Hyunjin melt. Enjoying that look on his partner’s face, Jisung returns the sentiment. 

“First to catch her wins,” Jisung coos, feeling heat envelop him. “Last has to watch.” 

Hyunjin takes off first. 

Dirt kicks up from his feet, his muscles pumping as he follows your scent through the woods. Jisung is hot at his heels, an excited growl pushing from his chest as the thrill of the chase fills his mind. Giving into the desire that surges in the more primal part of his brain, Jisung feels the urge to howl to the darkened sky with excitement. 

Hyunjin feels his heart pump, hammering in his chest as his senses hone onto your scent. The delight seeps into the bond, and he wonders if you can feel their primal hunger from your position ahead. With his mind solely focused on pursuing you, Hyunjin’s consciousness filters through the thoughts of what he wants to do with you once he catches you. He feels the need push harder against his chest and his stomach turns with a heat. 

“Keep those thoughts to yourself, Jinnie,” Jisung warns with an informal tone, playfully mocking his elder. Hyunjin’s indecent thoughts subconsciously drift from his mind to his partner’s, his arousal warping his control of their connection. “After all, you’ll be the one watching when I fuck her.” 

Jisung’s words taunt Hyunjin, and the elder manages a gruff sound as he kicks up his pace. 

“As if!” 

Hyunjin’s head knocks back as he sprints through the thicket of trees, a primal howl leaving his lips as he pursues your scent. The sound is chilling, echoing through the forest and alerting the rest of his pack of the start of a pursuit. He feels the lingering excitement of the rest of his pack at the edges of his mind – their curiosity spiking as they sense the chase that has begun. However, Hyunjin doesn’t have the focus to think of their reactions, mind solely concentrated on being the first to reach you. 

Jisung is on his heels - literally. The younger attempts to cut his elder off at the ankles, playfully trying to take Hyunjin out of the race. The promise of being the first to sink his teeth into you is a notion that skews his mind and entices him to play dirty, Hyunjin dodges his attempt and a feral sound escapes Jisung’s lungs. 

Far ahead, your quiet night is startled at the sound of a wolfish howl breaking the silence. The alluring sound sends shivers down your spine as you feel several emotions strike you through the magical bond between you and the pack. Waves of heat filter through you and the thrill sinks into you with your stomach turning with a salacious thought. They’ve locked in on your scent.

The howl was a warning – the chase has started. 

You don’t know which wolves have been the first to feel your presence, but you can isolate their feelings in the connection from the others. The heat is easy to separate from the other six wolves, and you find yourself attempting to send a bolt of heat down the connection to entice them.

‘Come and get me.’

It must work, as another chilling howl breaks through the air. 

Shifting on your feet, you move quickly. They may be far away now, but the wolves move far faster than you. You know they’ll be on you in no time. 

Turning back the way you came, you take off on the balls of your feet. With your heart hammering with both the race and the excitement of the chase, you push yourself as fast as you can. Feeling the chilly night air fill your lungs with a startling cold, you break into a smile. Laughing freely, you leap over a broken tree branch as the heat in your chest swells. 

It’s only been a few moments, but you can nearly hear the thundering sound of their footsteps hitting the earth. They’re closer than before, catching up quickly as the prospect of your teasing nature entices them to run faster. There’s two of them, growling with a fierce but not scary sound as they follow your path with hearts racing and magical heat filling the air. 

Just a few yards behind now, you push yourself as fast as you can go. While the thought of being caught is exciting and you long for the indecent result of their capture, you know the chase will be much more fun in the long run. The thought keeps you running, feet slapping against the ground as you huff pants of air in an attempt to keep yourself running. 

You can hear them behind you. Wolfish pants leave their chests and the sound of one of their growls sends a bolt of heat between your thighs. The same wolf sends a lustful beat of heat through your bond, a deeper warmth making your knees weak at the lascivious feeling. It’s a dirty trick - one that almost works. 

But you’re so close. 

Just a few more meters and you’ll break through the tree line, into your clearing: your safe zone. You know the heat between your thighs will be a bother to deal with later, but the thought of what will happen in the long run is too promising an idea. 

You allow yourself a glance over your shoulder. Just a glimpse is all you want. 

At the sight of a dark onyx colored wolf on your heels, a chestnut one on his own, has your heart stuttering with a bolt of thrill. A smile stretching across your lips at the darkened look in their eyes and heat in your bond, you turn back to your front and keep pushing through the trees. 

Hyunjin feels his heart stutter as he realizes how close you are to their borders. Just a few more yards and he’ll lose his chance. The thought makes him growl fiercely. With a fleeting thought, Hyunjin realizes you’ve planned this. You have made sure to only venture so far into the woods, ensuring that you'll be able to escape their grasp just barely. In his frustration, Hyunjin feels his chest swell with desire. 

You’re smart. 

Sending his thoughts to his partner, Jisung hisses out a curse as you begin to slip from their grasp. Pushing himself faster, Jisung refuses to let you win. His lungs scream with each breath, but Jisung knows the prize will be oh so sweet. The thought of pressing his skin into yours and sinking his teeth into your throat in a mating bite has his mind going fuzzy. 

With his mind lost in thought, Jisung misses the moment you cross the borders of their territory. 

With a final pant, you dive across the line. Exhaling harshly and pushing a few feet into the clearing to give yourself space, you lean over and rest your hands on your knees as you breathe. Lungs screaming for air, you pant with a wide smile and heat between your thighs. 

Outside the borders of their land, you have won the first challenge.

You pant harshly and attempt to keep yourself from squirming under the carnal gazes of the two werewolves. The heat still sizzles fiercely under your skin and you have to resist rubbing your thighs together to cope with the ache. 

Hyunjin feels a shiver shake down his spine at your motion. His tongue swipes across his teeth and he swears he can taste your lustful scent in his mouth. Dark pupils nearly roll back into his skull and Jisung simpers at his side, pacing in his anger. 

“Ahh,” you sigh, voice weary from the run. “You two are quick.” 

Turning back to the trees, you spot the tense forms of the two wolves. They’re pacing, feet as close to their border as they can possibly get. Muscle ripples beneath fur and you know the darker wolf is holding himself back from transforming. The notion excites you, knowing he could turn back to his human form at any moment. Shivering with delight, you smirk at him. 

“But not quick enough.” 

Hyunjin snarls. His chest hammers and he can feel the disappointment seep into his head. The heat is still there, roaring under his skin and setting every nerve in his body alight. Jisung paces at his side, the same fire rippling under his own skin. The two wolves fight the urge to transform, longing and aching to continue their pursuit. Desire roars in their forms, keeping them pacing along the line of their territory in an effort to expel some of the heat. There's only so much they can do to keep them from ripping from their wolfish forms and crossing the border. 

“Hyung,” Jisung’s voice is dark and laden with a salacious weight, “Chan said-”

“To hell with what Chan said!” 

Jisung’s pacing seems to grow more fierce. Whipping his head back to his partner, Jisung feels his chest pull tight with both the weight of his arousal and the constraint of Alpha’s orders. 

“Hyunjin,” Jisung sternly murmurs. Despite the heat burning every nerve under his fur and your scent ensnaring his senses, the chestnut wolf manages to keep himself in control. He knows Hyunjin doesn’t mean the words that spill forth in his carnal rage. Too motivated by primal urges and the thrill of the hunt, Hyunjin lets his wolf speak for him. 

“Little fucking tease,” Hyunjin growls, feeling his wolf shake with the emotion.

Jisung growls another feral sound, and you smirk. The heat echoes through your bond and you feel excitement swell once more. Now that you’ve had a taste, you know you’ll never be able to give this up. This chase is the most thrill you’ve ever had - you’ll never be able to escape the heat from these werewolves. 

And you don’t think you want to. 

“Maybe next time, Boys,” you playfully murmur. “Let the others know I said ‘Hello.’”

Then you turn on your heel and disappear back into your little cottage, letting the heavy wooden door fall shut behind you with a final sound. 

With his heart hammering beneath his ribs, Hyunjin snarls with finality. Unable to accept his loss, the dark wolf whips around to face the chestnut fur of his mate. Jisung slows his pacing to face Hyunjin, head tilted to listen to what he has to say. 

In a wildly nimble move, Hyunjin turns quickly and sinks his teeth into Jisung’s chestnut scruff – a dominance bite. 

Jisung stills under his mate’s teeth, going limp in his grasp. He whimpers quietly, his lust warping as Hyunjin growls into his skin. The burning fire in his chest transforms from dominance to submission in one quick moment. Hyunjin has Jisung under his body, his body rippling as he stands over his partner with desire sizzling through their bond. Jisung is sure you can feel it - just as he knows his other six mates can. 

“Hannie,” Hyunjin purrs, voice echoing in the younger’s mind, “If I can’t have her tonight – then m’gonna have you.” 

Your next encounter with the wolves is a few days later. 

After the first chase, you were unable to shake off the exciting feeling for hours. The adrenaline and surge of sweeping heat kept you in its grip the entire evening. In fact, you were quite certain the two wolves were using the magical bond to tease you long after you had separated. The bond continues to thrum and seize with waves of emotion that keep you awake, swimming in the depths of their pleasure.

Heat addled your body, leaving you sweating in your sheets and panting in the darkened hours of the evening. Though uncomfortable, you could not seem to hate the feeling. The goosebumps that scattered your skin beneath the heat were not unpleasant - merely sensitive, as was any touch against your warming skin. 

After a few hours, you deciphered that the werewolves were toying with you. They kept you awake with the same rush of emotion you had incited in their bodies earlier that evening. Sitting upright in bed, you huffed a sigh as you came to the conclusion.

Shortly after, you came to another decision. 

You were going to start playing dirty. 

So, a few days later, when you had another chance to venture into the woods, you were well prepared to ensnare the wolves as they had you. In a loose dress that fell below your knees, you could barely resist the surge of pride in your chest as you maneuvered through the forest with a hum. 

The idea had struck you not long after you finally fell into the clutches of sleep that night. You knew it was a crazy idea, one more filthy than anything you had ever concocted before. While you were nervous, the waves of apprehension still rolling in your stomach, you were also very excited to see their reactions. 

As you found your way into the same clearing you had discovered a few nights ago, you shivered once in the night air with the dregs of worry seeping away from you. This was a crazy idea – one you would only be able to invent in your wildest dreams. You never imagined you would ever do something such as this, but it seems meeting the werewolves was a discovery that would help you explore new facets of life as well as within yourself. Perhaps your meeting was not so accidental. 

Shivering once more, this time with bursts of excitement, you shimmied your legs and maneuvered out of the simple pair of cotton panties you had donned that evening. Heat rose into your face at the action, your ears burning as you finally pulled them off your legs. You felt a little obscene but you found that you were not averse to the new feeling. 

When the dark material of the black cloth reached your eyes, you felt a burst of bubbling feeling in your chest. Beneath your ribs, both an anxious and an excited feeling slammed together in a stormy collision. You could barely keep yourself still as the adrenaline began to sink into your being. 

Stepping towards a raised stump on the forest floor, you felt the edges of a smirk pull on your lips. The darkened bark covering the stump was barely visible in the moonlight, but you found you did not have much trouble maneuvering in the lack of light. Placing the cloth onto the stump, where you were sure it would not be obstructed, you stepped away with an assured sigh. 

Content with your plan, you laid in wait for whichever wolves would be your predators tonight. 

The werewolves in question were not far from your little seclusion. Minho, the pack’s second-in-command, leads the two youngest through the trees. Thickets of green coniferous branches surround the three werewolves, each section of the woodland looking not so different from the next. Minho and the others, however, were well aware of their position. They knew this forest like the back of their hands – likely able to maneuver through the thicket without the aid of their eyes. Minho swears he could follow the entirety of the borders of their territory by scent alone. 

Jeongin and Seungmin follow behind Minho, the two youngest speaking quietly to each other as they scout for their patrol. Minho is quiet, allowing his partners the hushed conversation - finding he greatly enjoyed listening to their voices fill the silence of the night. As he led the way, he kept his attention split between the pleasant sounds of his younger mates and the sounds of the forest around them. 

Jeongin’s lighter walnut-colored coat pressed into Seungmin’s darker fur as they walked, leaning into him for a moment before stepping away. Both of the younger’s were considered less physically affectionate than some of their older partners. However, that did not mean they were ever far apart for long. 

They spoke quietly about Hyunjin and Jisung. The two wolves had returned from patrol long after they should have; fur ruffled and smelling of sweat and indecent substances, Hyunjin had smirked at his other lovers. He recounted the events that had led to their return, speaking joyfully of the chase that had occurred and gruffly admitting that you had escaped outside their territory at the last moment. 

Minho had let out a gleeful chuckle at the younger’s admission, laughing heartily at their expense. Hyunjin and Jisung had rolled their eyes, knowing their partner had an inclination to tease. The second-in-command took great pleasure in poking fun at his partners: a love language of sorts. 

Had Minho known he would be the next to fall victim to your game, he would have teased the two less. 

It’s only a few moments later that Minho lifts his head, picking up the slightest hint of your sweet scent. It filters through his senses, seizing his mind and shifting his attention. Seungmin and Jeongin are at his side a moment later, coming to a halt as they lift their noses to the sky. 

Inhaling deeply once, Seungmin picks up the same inkling his elder has likely discovered. Feeling a wave of delight shiver through him, Seungmin turns to face his two partners with what looks like a wolfish grin. He shifts on his paws, testing his weight as his muscles prepare to launch. 

“Hmm,” Jeongin hums with his eyes closing in a blissful feeling, “She’s s’sweet, Hyung.” 

Minho responds with a chuff, shaking his coat in an attempt to clear his senses. Pawing at the ground, he feels the dregs of the thrill of the chase begin to form in his stomach. As second-in-command, Seungmin and Jeongin will wait for his word before either of them move. The notion makes Minho shiver – he greatly enjoys the dominance. 

“You smell her, Minnie?” the youngest questions. 

Seungmin responds with a purr of his own, sweeping his head to the ground to breathe another wave of your scent. He feels light-headed, the notion of your proximity making him feel weak. Leaning into Jeongin’s side, he looks to Minho as he speaks through their connection, “She’s close, Hyung.” 

Minho nods his head, chocolate colored fur shimmering in the light of the moon. You’re only a mile or two ahead, he surmises. Downwind from your position, they can breathe your scent clearly in the night air. Underneath your pleasant scent, Minho picks up the challenge. The traces are obvious in both your sweet smell and though the bond. As he tugs his end, Minho feels a feral grin overtake his features at your alluring pull in response. Though you’re likely unaware of the reality of the bond, you definitely understand how to manipulate the metaphorical string. 

“It seems Hyunjinnie wasn’t lying,” he murmurs with a smirk. “Are ya’ ready? She wants a chase.” 

Seungmin is quick to respond with a deep growl, his younger mate springing to his side with a similar sound. Setting his shoulders back and getting ready to pounce off his feet, Jeongin gives Minho a silent look of confirmation.

Then the three wolves are springing forward, launching towards your direction with a ferocity surging from deep within them. 

You can tell the moment their pace picks up speed from your position. Despite being so far, the enchanting change in the air and the burst of emotion in your chest is indicative of the shift. Feeling the adrenaline begin to pump through your veins, you let a sprawling grin take over your cheeks as you turn back towards your cottage. 

Shooting a last glance at your ‘gift,’ you turn on your feet and start running. They may be a mile behind, but you know their superior speed and strength will catch up to you quickly. When the night air rushes past you with a chill, you grin as howls fill the silence of the forest. 

The chase is on once more. 

Blood pumping and breaths coming out in pants, you feel the thrill overtake your body. It’s so alluring to feel the delight overtake you in these moments. With the new bond roaring beneath your skin and your mind racing, you leap through the little path you’ve memorized. Soaring over fallen branches and hooting with glee, you let your voice fill the sounds of wolfish howls. 

Minho’s heart stutters as your own elated sounds echo after their primal ones. Pushing himself faster, he can sense your proximity – not too much farther from him now. He won’t let you get away, not like the others did, 

Jeongin and Seungmin respond with their own ecstatic hoots, picking up their pace as the elder did. Their own emotions surge and swell in a mighty storm, feeling lighter than they’ve ever been as they race through the towering pines. 

These three are quick, you realize as you close in on your cottage. They’re coming closer than the previous two had. With your heart slamming in your chest and stomach twisting with glee, you attempt to push yourself a fraction faster. Your lungs scream for air, as if the mouthfuls you inhale aren’t enough. However, you know the reward is far too sweet to give in just yet. 

With a few yards left, you think you can feel the hot breaths of the lead werewolf across your back. Skirt twisting in the wind, you feel your heart skip a beat as you decipher how close they are from you. Heart in your throat, but not uncomfortably, you judge how far you are from the boundary line. It’s not far, but the wolves are even closer. 

Nerves alight and goosebumps breaking across your skin, you decide to take a chance. With the tree line coming into view, you feel the forms of the wolves closing in. Oh, they’re much quicker than the other two – or perhaps less competitive. It seems the playful rivalry between the two previous wolves had impeded their ability to catch up to you. 

With their forms coming too close, you suddenly dive to the side. Feet skidding across the dirt, you almost topple over in an attempt to catch yourself from the risky maneuver. As you try to keep yourself upright, you spot the dark chocolate color of fur fly by your side. The lead wolf shoots by, missing your form as you dove to the side. He lets out a shout of surprise, claws skidding across the dirt as he spins back to face you. 

You smirk as you pick the pace back up. He’d played right into your trap, giving you the precious few moments you needed to cross the boundary line. Panting harshly and grinning in accomplishment, you throw your head back with a gleeful victorious shout. 

“Fuck!” Minho snarls. He’d fallen for your ruse. Hyunjin had been right - you were cunning. As he paces the boundary line with a defeated growl, he can’t help but admire how wolfish you look in your pride. The heat under his skin still simmers vibrantly, but Minho is adept at keeping his feelings under control. 

You turn back to the brown wolf, grinning brightly at his darkened irises and tense shoulders. Despite the monstrous look, you find you’re not at all afraid of the wolves. You are well aware they would never lay a hand to harm you. The magical thrum connecting you and the eight speaks to that promise. 

Giving Minho a smug look, knowing he doesn’t yet know of your plan, you watch him pace the line once more. Delight surges in your chest and the feeling is alluring. 

“Alright, Sweetheart,” he hisses to himself, “You win this one.” 

Defeat is not a pleasant feeling, but Minho admits that the chase had been thrilling. Adrenaline still pumps through his system and he feels the enchanting allure that Hyunjin and Jisung had spoken of. It had been more than fun to pursue you through the trees, keeping your back in his view and tasting you on his tongue, Minho had never felt more alive. Though he’d failed to catch you, Minho too, knows the reward will be so much sweeter than the chase. 

One day, he promises – one day, he’ll tear you apart. He can’t wait for the moment you lie beneath his form – weak to his whims and head thrown back in pleasure. Minho swears he will never see a more beautiful thing. Your beauty is perhaps only rivaled by that of his other partners. 

You don’t say anything to Minho this time, knowing he has yet to discover your trick. The two other wolves are not behind him, and you are fairly certain of what has caught their attention. The chocolate wolf does not seem to realize their absence yet, but you turn back to your homely cottage with a grin, waiting for the discovery to sink in. 

When the door falls shut behind your form, obscuring your body from his sight, Minho finally realizes his younger partners are not behind him. Shaking off the lusty haze that blurred his mind, he turns back to the darkened pines at his rear. Stepping back into the depths of their territory, Minho reaches out through the bond for Jeongin and Seungmin. 

There’s a strike of worry in his chest, the pang hitting uncomfortably in his ribs as he scans the trees for his younger mates. 

However, before he has a chance to call for them, the two wolves are bursting through the trees in front of him, already transformed into their human forms. Standing on two legs and feeling the night air brush against his bare skin, Jeongin’s eyes are blown wide. Darkened pupils fill the space of his irises, overtaking the space with lust clear in the swirling depths. He clutches something tightly in his fist, as if protecting the item of his desire. 

The youngest stumbles as he comes to a stop, clearly affected by something that has overtaken his senses. Jeongin’s head feels as though it may burst. It’s overcrowded with thoughts of you and the article of clothing he grips firmly in his fingers. It still smells fresh, as though you had only taken it off moments ago, and the thought makes Jeongin weak in the knees. It overpowers his very being, setting each of his nerves on fire with blazes of indecent emotion. 

Seungmin looks no different, panting breath and eyes wide, he stalks towards his lover with a salacious look. 

“Hyung,” he nearly whimpers, breath catching on the word. His chest is tight and his voice breathy. Speaking feels all too much, and as he inhales, he catches another deep whiff of the cloth clutched in Jeongin’s fingers. Feeling his knees go weak, he shivers in delight and leans into Minho, who has quickly shifted back to his own human form. The elder catches Seungmin in his arms, feeling his skin buzz at the connection. 

Eyebrows furrowing, Minho turns to look back at Jeongin with confusion evident in his features. He’s still reeling from his defeat, but the look on Seungmin’s face has bewilderment swirling in his chest. Jeongin looks back at his mate with a haughty smirk on his face, shining teeth catching in the light as he grins with lust evident. 

“Pretty Girl left us a gift, Hyung.” 

With his chest surging with carnal desire, Jeongin holds out his hands and lets the scraps of inky black fabric fall into the open air. Minho feels the breath leave his lungs as the scent that clings to the cloth seeps into the air, filling his chest and making his knees tremble. Now truly understanding Seungmin's squirming form, Minho lets his eyes trail from the pair of black panties in Jeongin’s grasp to the path that leads back to your humble cottage. 

With an enraged snarl, Minho feels desire warp his being as he shakes. 

“That fucking slut!” 

His words aren’t malicious, but Jeongin still shivers with the weight of them. The two younger werewolves are well aware of the indecent names that fall from Minho’s lips in the heat of the moment – they’ve both been on the receiving end more than once before. 

“Smells s’fucking good, Minho,” Seungmin simpers, sinking into his parter as his head swirls. “M’gonna go crazy, I swear” 

Minho knows all too well the feeling that warps Seungmin’s conscious, for the same emotion swirls in his own mind; it makes him dizzy and he has to step backward to balance himself. Your fresh scent is everywhere, it tingles on his tongue and he shakes with the feeling. He barely maintains control of his wolf, begging to break free and howl with desire into the chilling night air. Swaying on his feet, Minho is surrounded by you. There’s hints of his lovers intertwined in your scent, and Minho feels as though his heart may burst with both arousal and affection. He can smell stains of your arousal in the fabric and Minho understands what it feels like to lose his mind. 

Shaking his head to clear his senses, he tries to keep himself upright. It does not work, but Minho swears he can keep himself together for a few more minutes. 

“C’mon - Chan’s gonna want to see this.” 

Jeongin audibly whines. Seungmin’s throat hurts when he echoes a similar sound. It cuts short when Minho’s big fingers pull at the back of his neck, scruffing him despite the lack of their wolfish forms. Seungmin’s whine cuts short, going limp into Minho’s arms. 

“Minho-” Jeongin whimpers, feeling the desire surge again. He’s not quite sure he’ll be able to make it all the way back to the pack house in this state. His legs are weak and he feels as though you’ve sent him into a premature rut. 

Minho huffs a snarl, sending Jeongin a look. As second-in-command, his word is final. However, Minho is not cruel. He may be teasing with his dominance, but Minho knows when enough is enough. Duty always comes first in his mind – desire must fall second for the moment. With a smirk, Minho pulls Seungmin up his chest a little. 

“Enough. We report to Chan, and then you two are mine.” 

And the second chase ends quite similarly to the first. 

When Minho returns from patrol that evening, practically dragging his two younger mates by their scruffs, Chan looks up from his place by the kitchen counter with interest. He could tell something had changed in their bond, an electric fizzling that felt much like arousal had filtered through each of the wolves not long ago. However, Chan could feel a new and exciting rush of emotion that he rarely experienced. 

Unsure of the change that had occurred, he perked up when the door opened. It nearly slammed against the wall with the force at which Minho had flung it open. His second-in-command is visibly trembling, barely keeping himself at bay against the torrent of emotion that wrecks his form. Eyes blown wide and darkened pupils enlarged, Minho looks feral. 

“Minho?” Chan questions, standing from his position to step towards his partner. He’s confused and a little wary, unsure of the events that have led to such a reaction. 

From over Minho’s shoulder, Chan catches a glimpse of his two youngest mates. They’re leaned against each other, barely keeping themselves upright and pressing every possible inch of skin together. It seems as though they cannot bear to be apart. Their eyes are a mirror of Minho’s – pupils dilated and blown wide with lust swimming in their murky depths. 

Jeongin audibly whimpers under Chan’s gaze, his head tilted to bare his neck - where Chan’s mating mark glistens with a glimpse of sweat. The other wolves have their own; seven marks dwell on each of them, but only Chan’s mark sits in the crevice between shoulder and throat: the mark of an Alpha. 

Chan feels his own arousal spike at Jeongin’s show of submission, but the pack leader attempts to shake off this feeling until he understands the situation better. His stomach twists with the feeling, but Chan buries it deep. Seungmin is seemingly not paying attention. His eyes are foggy with lust gripping him tight, and Chan knows he will not get an answer from him. 

“S’going on?” Chan tries again, stepping forward towards Minho once more. It’s clear the three wolves are ensnared in desire’s hold, but there’s still something missing – something that has happened on their evening patrol. 

Minho’s hazy eyes glint in the light and a smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. Chan feels apprehension swirl in his chest at the expression, wondering if he even wants to know the answer to his own question. 

“Our little angel left a present for us tonight, Hyung.” 

The furrow in Chan’s brow seems to deepen at Minho’s comment. The pack leader is well aware of the challenge he has set forth - just as he knows of the first chase that occurred between you, Hyunjin and Han. He had been extremely pleased to understand that you were seemingly delighted to accept the mating bond. Wolves were strange creatures, and their courting customs were even odder. At first, he’d been unsure if you understood the challenge he issued upon your first meeting. 

However, when Hyunjin and Han returned to their home a few days later with their eyes blown wide and frenzied smiles on their lips - just as Minho and the others do now, Chan knew you were fully aware of the decision you had made. If the deepening breadth of the magical bond between you was any indication, you wanted this as much as they did. 

“A present?” Chan’s rumbling voice sounds. 

Minho’s vague response only leaves the pack leader with more questions, and Chan steps forward again to press his second-in-command further. The implication of a second chase had been obvious, and your teasing nature would be enough to leave his mates in a carnal frenzy. However, he was not prepared for how cunning you could be when it came to driving his mates mad. 

As he approaches his partner, Chan is halted when he picks up hints of your scent in the air. Just a glimpse of your serene smell is enough to stun him. It addles his senses, blurring his thoughts as they begin to transform into images of you. Chest beginning to ache with a burning longing, Chan shakes his head to clear his mind. 

Minho, barely clutching to the remnants of his ever-slipping sanity, smirks with a mirthful look and reaches his hand out towards his eldest lover. The pack leader can tell the waves of your scent originate from Minho’s closed fingers, and like a wolf tracking its prey, Chan’s eyes lock onto the outstretched appendage. 

Chan is so desperately unprepared for the barrage of emotions that crash into his mind when Minho’s fingers unfurl: revealing a dark onyx pair of panties, still overflowing with your fresh scent and clearly brimming with implications of your desire.

Minho has never seen his Alpha so weak. 

With his consciousness still blurry and body barely held back by the grip of his sanity, Minho watches his mighty leader tremble at the knees. It’s nearly instantaneous; Chan’s pupils dilate - the darkness in the inky masses overtaking the color that once shone lightly. His shoulders go lax and Minho can already smell the waves of lusty pheromones that Chan has unconsciously started releasing. 

From behind him, Jeongin and Seungmin keen, finally collapsing into a heap at their Alpha’s strong scent. Whining and pushing into each other, they rub bare skin against each other in the hopes of releasing some of the heat that burns so strongly under their flesh. Minho nearly gives in to temptation – he wants nothing more than to turn and descend upon his partners, letting the whim of desire command his next movements. 

Yet Minho is infatuated with the look that has fallen over Chan’s features. 

He cannot tear his eyes away from his pack leader, watching with a bated breath as Chan steps toward him. Under his primal gaze, Minho has never felt more weak to his pack leader than now. Somewhere deep in his gut, Minho feels a prick of excitement filter through him. Usually so dominant, the second-in-command is a little eager to see what happens next. 

A hungry, desperate sound escapes Chan’s lips when he halts in front of Minho. Skin almost touching, Minho extends his fist once more at his leader’s call. Offering the scraps of ebony cloth to Chan, Minho feels his spine shiver when Chan’s skin rubs against his own as he pulls the article into his grasp. 

“Fuck.” 

The sound is so unlike Chan. Minho had expected him to sound so much more daunting - as he himself had been filled with primal anger not so long ago. This sound, however, is so much weaker. The word escapes Chan’s lips barely louder than a whisper. It’s a weak sound, almost a whimper falling from his lips with a desperation Minho has seldom seen. 

Chan is overflowing with emotion, and he suddenly understands why his mates had been so unruly when they returned to the house a few days ago. 

His chest aches and surges with a torrent of desire and longing. Your scent surrounds him and Chan thinks his wolf may burst forth and take over the last threads of his dwindling sanity. Such a little thing, he manages to think – such a little thing can destroy them so easily. 

Only a moment later, Chan recedes back into himself. Transforming back into the dominant pack leader the others are used to, Chan growls out an angry, desperate sound. 

“Fuck!” 

He repeats the word, this time with the carnal rage Minho had been expecting. With shivers rolling down his back, the bond surges with emotion. Likely radiating to the rest of the pack, Chan sighs a deep whiff of your scent and lets himself sink into your aura. 

“Hm, this s’how she wants t’play?” he murmurs, feeling himself fade into the grip of desire. Chan lets his wolf press against the forefront of his mind, allowing it to control his carnality. Descending on Minho, his teeth ache against his gums as he presses his canines into his mate’s skin. Still human, they scrape against the smooth skin of Minho’s neck, and the younger grunts under the pressure, but does not move. Chan’s next words are moaned into Minho’s skin, gripping his partner tight to his body with your panties still clutched in his fist. 

“Oh, we can play dirty, Baby.” 

Letting out a huff as you stretch to reach the heavy bag of sugar on one of the taller shelves, you pull down the item and set it on the counter before you.

The cafe always slows down around the afternoon. You’re open later into the day, but there’s often time to restock and compile things in the back room as the hours get later. Not as many customers filter through your sweet little shop in the afternoon, but that’s no bother to you. It gives you more time to start ‘special’ brews in the back – potions and elixirs of the sort. 

While you operate as an ordinary cafe during the day, the evenings are targeted towards the supernatural. It’s not well advertised, but other creatures know what to look for. Commissions for specific potions and special elixirs are just the start of the wonders you can brew in the afternoon hours. 

You had just completed a very complex potion - one that had taken you nearly a month to finish with the utmost care. It had been an expensive request, but one you were more than willing to perfect for a friend. A potion of immortality; not an easy potion to brew, and even more difficult to prepare correctly. The commission had nearly run you dry of ingredients, and frustrated you to no end. Yet, they had compensated for your troubles with far more payment than you would have asked. 

Of course, when eight demons - let alone the eight princes of Hell itself - knock on your door and make a request, you were more than willing to drop everything to assist them. 

Besides, they were friends. You’d even given their sweet soulmate some mirthful advice when she had approached you a few weeks back – something about a salt circle and how it would hold against the High King of Hell. 

When the bell to the door jingles loudly from the front room, you look up from the counter. The sugar emptied in its proper storage container, you throw the bag into the waste bin and tie your apron tighter around your waist. Preparing to meet the customers who have entered your shop, you suddenly feel a wave of familiarity overtake your body. 

Fingers stilling on the tie of your apron, you inhale a deep breath and feel the recognizable aura of your wolves filter through you. The bond tugs teasingly from their end, and you're suddenly aware you’ve never seen any of the werewolves outside their territory. 

The thought is both daunting and exciting. Unbound by the laws that prevent them from pursuing you in wolfish form, you shiver at the thought of what mischief they will get up to now. You find yourself surging with delight and anticipating, wanting to see their human forms as well as finally speak to them.

You only recognize one of the auras behind the door that separates you from the front room. There's two other werewolves with him, but you can feel the familiar teasing bond that connects you to one of the wolves from the first night. You cannot tell which it is, as their auras had blended together that night, but you know for certain one of them lies beyond the wooden frame. 

Inhaling deeply to soothe the worried excitement and build your confidence, you step forward and push open the folding door to the backroom. 

There’s no one else in the cafe - tables empty of patrons and cleared of dishes for the afternoon. The only forms in your little building are the bodies of the three werewolves that stand at your counter, smiles on their lips and something glistening deep in their irises. 

You have to prevent yourself from staring. 

The three men at your counter are breathtakingly attractive. Your breath is nearly stolen from your lungs at the sight of them. The one standing in front is the shortest of the three, but he is outstandingly the most muscular. His biceps bulge underneath the dark shirt squeezing them, and you have to avert your eyes to keep yourself from lingering on their shape. His lips raise at the corner when he notices how your eyes have to shift away. Dark hair shifting when his head tilts, he looks incredibly alluring in the light of the afternoon.

Behind him, a slightly taller man stands with a wide grin on his lips, and you suddenly feel as though the sun itself has graced you with its warmth. 

His longer blondish, silver hair rests against his neck, blending beautifully with the smooth skin and darker freckles that coat his cheeks. Teeth white and shining in his sweet grin, you feel warm from the inside out under his eyes. This man is the embodiment of sunshine - and he radiates kindness coupled with a teasing mirth that you can only detect through the bond that buzzes between you. He’s so alluring, you have to shift your gaze to the final man to break your concentration. 

The blonde is leaning against the tallest of the three - and with a stuttering breath, you realize this is the larger black wolf that pursued you during the first chase; the one who stalked the edges of their territory, attempting to lure you back into his grasp with bolts of arousal sent down your bond. You remember his dark eyes and his dominating aura, feeling waves of thrill filter through your stomach at the memory. 

He stands to the side, his arm wrapped around the blonde’s waist with a smirk pulling the side of his mouth upward. When a rolling burst of delight shivers down your spine, you feel his satisfaction swarm you. You recognized him, and the thought makes him keen. 

The tallest of the three is beautiful in a way that makes you hesitate. He’s princely – dazzlingly pretty with smooth skin and the top of his long blond hair pulled into a ponytail behind his head. Strands of his bangs frame his face, dangling in front of his eyes as a headband holds the rest back from falling from its place behind his head. He regards you with a confident, sultry look that makes your legs weak. There's a little dark, freckle beneath one of his eyes and you are overcome with the urge to press your lips against it. 

As if he can read your mind, his head tilts with another smirk. Eyes racking over your form, you shiver again and the sight seems to excite him more. 

With excitement prickling under your skin, you manage to step forward around the counter with a smile pulling at your lips. 

“Hello,” you murmur sweetly, feeling genuine happiness at their arrival. “Can I help you three?” 

Stepping forward to greet them, you feel another beat of delight pull you nearer to their forms - almost as if their very existence draws you closer. The tallest hums, the sound warm as he regards you. His voice is nearly a purr when he answers you. 

“Oh, you most certainly can.” 

“Hyunjin!” the blonde murmurs with a smile, digging his fingers into the taller’s side. “What happened to ‘going slow?’”

You giggle fondly at their display, covering your mouth with your hand. The two look up from each other with their eyes glimmering. Looking back at you with smiles stretching across their lips, they seem to adore the sound that falls from your lips. 

“S’alright,” you tease, “I suppose there’s nothing ‘slow’ about how we met before, so there’s no need to hesitate now.”  

Hyunjin, the wolf you met the first night, smiles even wider at your words. Satisfied with your response, he looks back at his younger partner with the same grin. ‘See?’ the teasing look seems to say. 

The darker haired man in front rolls his eyes playfully. The action does not seem annoyed, more so mirthfully done as he appears used to the two’s antics. Uncrossing his arms from across his chest - an action you find yourself missing as your eyes leave his chest - he reaches a hand out with a smile of his own. 

“Changbin,” he offers with a deep voice. “We figured we should probably formally introduce ourselves if our ‘meetings’ are going to continue.” He says the word with a honeyed, crooning sound - one that makes your stomach turn with heat. 

You reach out your own hand with an offer of your own name, gently grasping his fingers as you speak. As your hand closes around his, you feel a striking beat of heat in your chest. You look up at him in surprise, and are met with a smirking smile. He seems to completely understand the feeling, as a pleased sound escapes his lips. You eye his hand with a look, then turn back to him with a questioning, teasing look. 

He shrugs off the look, letting you know it would likely be explained later. When he lets go of your hand, you miss its warmth and the flood of pleasant emotion that came with it. 

Though, his partner steps forward next, offering his own to replace the loss. 

“M’Felix,” he adds happily. His voice is deep, and you feel like you’re drowning in the waves of his soothing voice. You feel the same warmth filter through you at his touch. He truly is sunshine incarnate. When the same bolt of heat sinks into you upon contact with his hand, you feel it settle low in your stomach as you crave more of it. 

With his smile brighter than any other, you feel a strange urge to squeeze his soft cheeks and scatter the freckles and sunspots with kisses. It’s a little strange to have such thoughts upon your first meeting, but you suppose this magical bond is much odder. 

The last of them, Hyunjin, steps forward finally. His hand leaves Felix’s waist with difficulty, almost as if separating from him is painful. Yet, he reaches his hand out all the same. Long fingers dangling in front of you, you regard him with a mirthful look - one he happily returns. 

“Hyunjin.” 

You wrap your fingers around his hand, finally shivering in delight as you finally put a face to the name of the wolf who had chased you not so long ago. His touch is remarkably sweet despite the roaring pleasure that seems to spawn from it. Hyunjin seems to send the heat down the bond as he touches you, more than ecstatic to finally touch you after being deprived that night. 

“S’nice to finally put a name to a face,” you playfully respond. “Or - snout, I suppose.” 

Hyunjin offers a little growl, teasingly pulling you a fraction closer. His voice drops back to a purr, honeyed sound echoing through you as he speaks. 

“So you do remember me?”

“I remember you losing,” you respond with mirth in your voice, having to turn away from his darkened irises as you speak. Being this close to him makes you weak in a way you could not have previously imagined. It’s a wonder you’re able to respond without your voice shaking. 

“Oh, do you?” 

Hyunjin hums deep in his chest, the sound nearly making you tremble with delight. His hand has not left yours, but you don't want it to. You adore the feeling of their skin against yours, and you find yourself not wanting it to leave. 

Felix huffs a laugh into Changbin’s shoulder, leaning into his older mate with a grin. It’s very funny to watch the two of you playfully bicker. Changbin feels a smirk of his own drift onto his cheeks. It’s nice to see someone put Hyunjin in his place; as if he doesn’t get enough of that from him, Minho or Chan. 

You respond with a hum of your own, resisting the urge to lean into Hyunjin as you do. This close, you can breathe in the intoxicating scent that surrounds the blonde. In a moment of clarity, you wonder if he dyes his hair – his wolf being a deep brown, nearly black. 

You shake off the thought when he leans a little closer. Changbin smirks when you shrink bashfully under Hyunjin’s proximity. For all your mirth, it seems you are weak under their hold. The notion makes his chest swell, already imagining all sorts of scenarios in which he wants to corrupt that sweet, sheepish look. 

“Next time -” Hyunjin coos as he pushes closer to press his lips to the shell of your ear to murmur the words. “Next time, I won't lose.”

You physically shiver slightly as his breath tickles your cheek. His proximity makes your brain still, suddenly surrounded by him. Everything in your mind is now focused on Hyunjin. The smooth expanse of his skin and the warmth of it beneath your fingers pushes desperately at the forefront of your mind. You want to push closer - to bury yourself in his chest as you had seen Felix do. You wonder how his fingers would feel on your cheeks, or even perhaps, less decent places too. 

Hyunjin feels his stomach leap with pride when he weakens visibly under his motions. The dominating feeling presses into his throat and grips him tightly, and he knows he’ll have to coax one of the others into his bed to burn off the heat later. 

Changbin pulls Felix closer to his side as Hyunjin speaks, feeling his own burst of dominance pulse when Hyunjin begins to release intoxicating pheromones. You won’t be able to smell them, but he and Felix surely do. 

“Yeah?” you murmur weakly back, feeling much less confidence as Hyunjin leers over you with desire clear in his eyes. 

“Hmm,” he agrees, chest rumbling with the sound. You swear you can feel his ribs shake with the sound. 

When he pulls away, you nearly follow after him. Missing his touch and his warmth, you are desperate to feel his hands again. You have to shake your head to clear your mind of the thoughts as Hyunjin leans back. With your mind back on track, you question what the three have entered your cafe for. 

Suddenly in a different mindset, Changbin reiterates what Chan had requested: several stamina potions and an elixir that allows the wearer resistance to wolfsbane. 

You nod with a clearer head, writing down the orders on a pad from the pocket of your apron. Already taking mental stock of the material you have on hand on what you’ll have to collect, you agree happily. 

“They can be finished tomorrow evening,” you supply, setting down the notepad on the counter behind you. “Can you send someone to pick them up then?”

“Absolutely,” Changbin nods. He already knows which of his partners will be the next to vie for an opportunity to see you. With how much of a fight Han and Jeongin had put up when they left, Changbin knows convincing any of the others to meet you tomorrow evening will not be a difficulty. 

You nod with a grin on your cheeks, moving to step behind the counter before you’re stopped once more. Changbin leans forward, his hand gripping yours gently. Moving away from Felix, the dark haired man suddenly steps impossibly closer. 

His chest nearly presses against yours and you have to physically tear your eyes away for his muscle to meet his eyes. However, perhaps it would have been easier to continue staring at his chest, as the moment you meet his dark eyes you find yourself striking under the lust that seems to swirl in their depths. Changbin is perhaps more dominating than Hyunjin, and heat swells in your stomach when he scans your form beneath his. A smirk pulls up his lips and he pushes closer again, savoring the sweet squeak that leaves your lips when your forms meet. 

Felix cannot resist temptation. 

Both Changbin and Hyunjin have had the chance to get closer - to feel your skin under their own and feel the beat of your heart so near. With a dizzy feeling, Felix steps away from Hyunjin. His eyes are cloudy with something you can't place, but from beneath Changbin, you recognize that his eyes are on you.

Tearing your gaze from the darker haired werewolf, you manage to meet Felix’s pretty irises. He’s giving you a look – a question swirling in the darkness of his pupils. With your mind slowly succumbing to Changbin’s aura, you vaguely realize that Felix is asking for permission. 

A woozy nod is all the answer he needs. 

Felix slides behind you with his chest nearly pressing against your back. He’s so warm, so kind when he pushes closer. You feel his chest vibrate with a hum, the beat of his heart quickening to match the pace of your own. You vaguely notice that your pulse is the same as his - as Changbin’s, and if you were close enough, likely Hyunjin’s too. 

Rumbling softly, you feel his skin move under yours and you feel light-headed. Changbin feels his stomach twist with desire when he smells the barest wave of arousal coat your thighs. If he were any weaker, he would have you with your permission now. However, he knows what Chan has planned. The reward at the end of their hunt will be so much sweeter. 

Felix slides an arm around you to touch Changbin, unable to hold back from feeling the skin of his partner. His eyes close, head tilting back in the slightest as the touch of your skin registers in his mind. 

“Pretty?” he addresses you, leaning down as Hyunjin had to speak the words directly into your ear. The name makes you keen, elated to be referred to with such a moniker. 

“Hmm?” is the only sound you manage to offer in response. 

“Thanks for the gift, Pretty Girl,” he coos, moving his strong hand behind you to tuck something into your back pocket. Your body trembles under his touch, feeling the way he leaves his hand at your backside for a moment too long. He pushes something into the pocket of your jeans, humming pleasantly as he does. He adores the way you seem so weak underneath him. Oh, how he longs to corrupt you further. 

“Bring us a new pair, next time?,” Changbin continues, “Something pink – it’s Chan’s favorite.” Though you don’t know Chan by name, Changbin suspects you are aware of the reference to their Alpha. 

With a keen and your head knocking back to expose your throat, Changbin has to use all his strength to not lean forward to set his lips to the skin. It’s been made very clear that Chan will be the first to mark you – Changbin will have to wait his turn. But the sight of your skin bare beneath him, with you so willingly offering it to him, Changbin has to pull back his wolf as it cries to sink his teeth into your skin with a carnal desire.

Felix adores the way you shiver against him, feeling the brush of Changbin’s hand against the front of his jeans due to his proximity. He feels his own resolve weaken, his stomach twists with delight and heat rising to his cheeks as his partner moves. 

It takes great difficulty to pull himself away, and Changbin has to lean into Felix to stop himself from pushing back into you. With an acknowledging nod, the three finally turn to leave your little cafe. It all happens so quickly, you barely feel time pass until their forms disappear down the street. 

When you can no longer see them, all strength leaves your legs and you sag against the counter at your back. The bond roars under your skin and every nerve is on fire. So little touch manages to drive you mad – you cannot imagine how it will feel when they finally capture you. 

Taking a deep breath to cool yourself down and rubbing your thighs together, you shakily reach for your back pocket. Skin still buzzing from Changbin’s touch, you pull out the cloth that he has stuffed into the crevice of your jeans. 

Under the light of the dimming afternoon sky, you exhale harshly at the sight of the tattered cloth in your grip. Torn nearly to shreds, it seems the werewolves have greatly appreciated your gift from a few nights ago. The notion makes you buzz in anticipation. The implication of their strength is not lost on you. If they have torn this apart, you cannot wait for what they will do to you upon your capture. 

With the knowledge of their pack leader’s favorite color, your buzzing mind makes quick plans. It seems you’re in desperate need of a pair of pink panties – it’s Chan’s favorite color, after all.  

Minho mentions it when he returns from morning patrol. 

He’d gone out alone that morning, before the sun had broken through the trees and cast its golden light through the darkness of the coniferous pines. The air still clung to the chill of night, but Minho was not bothered - his fur was thick and his body temperature was higher than a human’s. The cold did not bother any of them. 

Just as the sun was breaking over the horizon beyond your cottage, Minho smelled it. 

He wasn't far from your home, just a couple of miles and he would be able to see the smoke from the crackling fire in your chimney. The knowledge of your proximity suddenly makes him very nervous. Hair standing on end, Minho's snout lowers to the floor. He tracks the scent until it reaches the border of their territory, far from your cottage. 

Vampire. 

Once he checked on your home once more, waiting to see your head emerge from the back door as you headed to work, Minho returned to the pack house. Your safety ensured, the second-in-command takes off. His paws slap against the earth as he bounds back to his pack leader with the news. 

“A vampire?” Chan questions, his words are tense but don’t reveal the anxiety that pushes at his throat. It settles there with a sickening feeling, but Chan ignores it. “Are you sure?”

Minho’s nod is immediate. He’s absolutely sure of what he smelled - there is no doubt in his mind. There was a vampire in their territory last night. After evening patrol had returned, it had likely slipped over their borders. Investigating or hunting, they were not sure. 

What Chan was sure of, however, was that you were no longer safe alone in their territory. 

“Shit, okay,” Chan curses. In the seclusion of just himself and his second-in-command, Chan allows himself a moment of worry. Minho is one of the only pack members he shows this side of himself to. Though his partners are extremely important to him, Chan doesn’t want them to worry. He keeps this anxious part of himself locked away, ensuring that the others shouldn’t have to experience the same.

However, this does not mean that the others don’t worry. God, if the others could take some of the stress from their leader’s shoulders, they would. They know Chan is unlikely to share the burden, feeling as though the pack leader should bear their burdens alone. So they find little things to ease the weight that holds him down. 

Minho and Changbin ensure that things run smoothly within the pack – ordinary everyday things that Chan shouldn’t have to worry about. Felix is an expert at eating tension need be, after all no one can resist his sweet smile and sunshine demeanor. Everyone takes part in cleaning and cooking, keeping the house nice so that these little things don’t pile on their leader’s shoulders. Jeongin brings food to Chan’s room when he secludes himself there to work. Seungmin drops by every few hours to refill his water bottle and make sure he’s drinking enough of it. Jisung is the mood maker, always managing to keep a smile on their faces despite the tension that may weigh them down. 

The pack runs smoothly when everyone has their part. No one is alone and no one is left behind. 

Minho’s hand reaches out to gently secure itself on Chan’s shoulder. He rubs his fingers gently, a comforting gesture that eases some of the tension in Chan’s muscles. 

Chan gives Minho a grateful look, nodding his head as he decides their next course of action. 

“Okay, we’ll meet her tonight,” he mutters. “Our challenge is put on hold for the next few days - at least until the vampire is gone.” 

Minho nods his head, agreeing with the command. He takes a deep breath that settles some of the worry in his stomach. 

“We can wait for her at dusk. Her cafe closes at 4 - she’ll be out not long after.” 

Chan’s lips press into a worried smile, nodding his own head. It makes sense, and Chan is comforted by the plan. If he can convince you to stay with them for a few days, he’d feel even better. Knowing there is a vampire at the edges of their territory, so close to your home, is an unnerving sentiment. Chan would give you his own room and have the others under lock and key if it meant he could ensure your safety. Though Chan doubts that any of them would bother you with your life in question. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Chan nods. He leans into Minho for a moment, enjoying the affection from his younger mate. Minho was honestly much more akin to a cat when it came to affection - careful and hard to understand sometimes. When he allowed it, or even reached out for it, the rest of the pack greatly enjoyed the affection from Minho. 

Minho ran his hand through the hair at the base of Chan’s neck, scratching gently and smiling at the hum of pleasure that escaped the pack leader’s throat. To reassure himself, Chan reaches out through your bond. He’s unsure if you'll understand the feeling, but he tugs his end of the string twice in question, praying you'll understand what he means. 

He waits a beat or two in silence, his head pushed into Minho’s neck. Then, his heart stutters as he feels the other end of the string tug back. Three pulses. Chan feels you pull lightly three times, sending back a beat of comfort to reassure him that you’re alright. 

With that comfort in mind, Chan allows himself to bury his face further into Minho. He breathes in the comforting, familiar scent of his mate and sighs deeply. Some of the tension has left his shoulders; the combined effort of both you and Minho easing some of his newfound worry. 

“S’fine, Hyung. We’ll see her soon.” 

Yet, hours later, when the sun has begun to set behind the trees and the air chills once more, you’re nowhere to be found. 

After closing up the cafe earlier that day, you had decided to do something a little spontaneous. A few nights had passed since the last time you’d engaged in a chase with any of your newfound werewolf prospects. Of course, you had seen the three in your cafe not too long ago, and had been introduced to three more the following evening. It was nice to finally put faces to names, and you found that knowing what they looked like only drew you in deeper to the mystical connection between you. 

The second meeting in your cafe had gone quite similar to the first. This time, Han, Jeongin and Seungmin had been the ones to greet you. The three werewolves had picked up their order and conversed with you for a few moments, teasing being passed between you as all three wolves had been stumped by you during their own attempt to catch you. 

Each of them had taken a chance to get closer, sliding a teasing hand over your waist or leaning close to whisper something into your ear. There was friendly affection too, like when Jeongin fiddled with your fingers while you spoke about the pastries you baked that morning. Or when it was time for them to leave, Seungmin leaned in for a sweet hug, gently pressing you into his chest to squeeze you tight. It was nice – to experience the intimate moments in between the salacious scenes of your chases. You found yourself falling deeper and deeper into the connection that linked the nine of you together. 

Of course, before Seungmin let go, his hands drifted a fraction lower. The playful, short squeeze of your backside had made you let out a short squeak, heat rising to your cheeks and your ears burning. Seungmin laughed at the sound, chest rumbling with his giggles as he offered an explanation. 

“Changbin said you had a nice butt,” he murmurs playfully. You swatted him across the chest lightly, moving before he could catch your fleeting fingers. 

“Well, tell Changbin I’m going to kick his when he comes out tonight.” 

They had left shortly after, smirks on their cheeks and laughter smiling from their chests. By the time they disappeared from your vision, you were left feeling both giddy and buzzing with arousal. The sweet ring of anticipation simmered in your gut, and you couldn’t wait for later that evening. 

With a smile on your lips and the thought of the wolves on your mind, you decided you’d venture out a little earlier tonight. Hopefully you would be able to scout a new path – something different from the previous two runs. It would be exciting to change the pace for both you and the werewolves. 

As you lock up the cafe behind you, the giddiness shows in your step as you practically skip towards your car. The drive home feels shorter than it usually does; perhaps due to your enthusiasm to reach the little cottage to incite another chase.

It’s not long after you set foot in the homely cabin that you leave once more. 

The new pair of sweet pink panties already donned, you feel the excitement surge again. Five of the eight wolves have partaken in the challenge issued by Chan, the pack Alpha. Assuming they will follow a similar pattern as before, you hope that the final three will be the ones to enjoy a chase this evening. Felix, Changbin, and the pack leader himself - would likely be the last to join the exhilarating mating challenge. 

An arousing shiver rakes down your spine as you think of the request Changbin had made of you. The memory of his warm breath on the crevice of your neck and the press of Felix’s chest against your back makes the longing in your chest grow deeper. You wonder how Chan’s touch will feel against your bare skin. The connection that binds you to the pack leader is strong, and you can feel nearly every twitch and tug of emotion from his end. The notion makes you wonder how contact with his exposed skin against your own will feel – if the ache in your chest will finally soothe upon relishing in the depth of his touch. 

Lost in your spiral of thoughts, you meander through the woods without a particular destination in mind. You only want to venture about half a mile into the trees, as you know the werewolves may be able to catch you if you go much farther. You cannot outrun them for much farther. 

With dusk beginning to settle over the area, that last remnant of golden sunshine peeking through the trees, you listen to the peaceful sounds of the woodland surrounding you. The thrum of the magic that encompasses the borders of the wolves’ territory flickers for a moment, a feeling you are not used to. The magical aura that coats the edges of their land wanes under your touch, but does not weaken. It allows you entry without the expense of magic, a sentiment you understand to connect you further to the pack.

This feeling, however, is strange.

Even as you wander away from the border, you can still feel the aura shift and change, as if someone has crossed it – someone it did not entrust to the wolf kingdom. Someone it did not want inside the bounds of their land.

Your feet halt, breath catching in your throat as you suddenly feel the air go still. The sounds of the forest - the chirping of birds and the whistle of the wind through pines - all begin to fade into an eerie silence. It feels as though the very oxygen you breathe has gone stale, itching at your skin as it touches you.

Pulse stuttering in your throat, you hesitate. You had not before had fears of being alone in the woods. As long as you were in pack territory, you knew you were safer than anywhere else. That comfort had kept you from being frightened in the dark seclusion of the trees in previous nights. Now, with the startling reality of the solitude of the forest around you and the ominous fizzling of another magical presence weighing on your mind, you were more than aware of the nonsensical decision you had made.

Moving quickly, you shrink low in an attempt to cover yourself with the foliage that shrouded the area. Staying low to the ground to hopefully make yourself scarce, you take a deep breath to soothe your nerves. Your heartbeat stutters in your chest, thumping in an almost painful manner. It roars beneath your ribs and you think you can faintly hear the pulse in your eardrums. 

Skin prickled with goosebumps and chest beginning to tighten with the grip of fear, you attempt to draw from the little magic you possess. It’s not much - usually just enough to sense the magical changes and auras from other supernatural creatures. You’ve never been able to cast your own spells as the witch blood that flows through your veins has long been diluted over the ages. Your witch-like nature was mostly expressed through the brewing of potions as it did not require magical prowess – only the spell books left to your possession by various ancestors. 

The reminder stings painfully in your mind, only ceasing to spark another bout of fear. As you hesitate, the eerie aura slips closer. 

In the darkening hours of dusk, you cannot yet see them, but you know they’re not far. With panic pushing into your throat, you do not have the conscious thought to alert the wolves. Falling back into base instinct, you are too new to the bond - too unfamiliar with its magic. In your panic, you can hardly recall its presence. 

When a stick cracks in the distance, you hold your breath. There is no telling what lurks behind the seclusion of your hiding place, and you do not know if they can hear each breath you take. 

Enraged tears push at the back of your eyes, suddenly furious with yourself for being so careless. There was much you could have done to prevent this, but you suppose there is no use in deliberating your mistakes. You force back the sweltering pressure that pushes against your eyes. You will not cry when there is something to be done - something to save yourself.

As another sharp, echoing crack of a fallen branch rings through the area, this time much closer, you try to puzzle through the aura of whatever being has begun to stalk you. It is quite clear they have learned of your presence. There would be no use in silent, slow tracking if they had been simply strolling through the woods. 

Reaching out with the barest traces of magic, you are stricken cold to discover what lies not far from your crouched form. Their aura is sanguine red, dripping with darkness and radiating with ill-intent. It’s suffocating as it descends upon you, seeming to fill both your lungs and your brain with its vile ambience. 

Vampire. 

You have not had much dealings with vampires. They’re solitary creatures, perhaps more so than witches. While some reside in covens, just as your own kind may, most chose a life of solitude. It’s easier to keep prey to themselves that way. They may not all be the bloodthirsty monsters of myth, but this one certainly is. With an aura so stark red and overflowing with hunger, you know you have become its next target.

Resistantly the urge to suck in a gasp of terror, you try to keep your breaths low and steady against the palm of your hand to suppress the sound. Before you can even attempt your escape, the chilling sound of its voice filters through the biting cold air that has begun to descend. 

“I can smell you, Pet.” 

The tears finally begin to squeeze from your eyes. Powerless to the burn in your eyes, the salty droplets fall from your ducts and wet your fingers. Terror has finally gripped you tight. You’re frozen to its entrapment, unable to move without fear of the vampire knowing your location – though you’re quite sure it’s already well aware. 

Stomach rolling with waves of anxiety, nausea beginning to burn acridly in the base of your throat, you feel as though you may vomit. You’ve never felt this pure, stirring form of fear seize you before. 

With desperation beginning to settle into your mind, you wonder if you can perhaps bargain with the vampire. It’s likely a fruitless venture, but you stand no chance if it comes to a fight. A vampire overpowers you in both strength and speed; you will not be able to outmaneuver it if you choose to run. 

Breath catching in your throat, you attempt to speak around the grip of nausea. Voice warbled with fear, though you try desperately to suppress it, you speak. 

“You don't want to do this.”

An unsettling laugh seems to spark a chill so deep into your form that you think it may nestle into the fiber of your very bones. They’re closer now. The eerie sound of their laugh comes from the thicket of pines to your right - back the way you came, towards your home. 

“And why not?” The vampire responds, ire rising in their tone. “You smell remarkably sweet, Little Witch – and it would be oh so easy to have a taste.” 

An uncontrolled shiver rakes down your spine and your hair stands on end. The frigid air settles into your skin, raising the goosebumps on the exposed flesh. His words are unsettling, only adding another wave to the already storming sea of panic in your stomach. The vampire seems to be enjoying the way you nearly tremble in fear, the smugness showing in his voice when he answers. 

Your brain races as you attempt to find a reason. Panic pushes at your head and your mind is moving too quickly. Ideas race past and you cannot seem to grasp one with a conscious thought. It feels as though you are drowning in the depths of your own mind, unable to grasp hold of a single thing to say. 

It’s only when you feel a single tug on the buried string in your chest, do you remember. The pull is strong, reaching out with a worried apprehension, and you can barely feel it over the tightness that keeps you still. 

“The wolves!” you gasp out, voice airy as you barely manage to stutter out the word. “This is werewolf territory – you can’t touch me here!”

The vampire snarls. 

You still once more, the sound seeming to strike you frozen. You almost expect the vampire to descend on you then, with sharp fangs and bloodlust surging within the vile creature. He sounds furious at your exclamation, as if the mention of werewolves was a personal attack. Well, you suppose it kind of is. 

“Werewolves,” he sneers. You can practically hear the way his lip curls over the word. Disgust lingers in his tone, the sound nearly making you angry on behalf of the wolves you’ve come to treasure. “As if I care for what wolves think.”

You shudder. 

If the strength of a wolf pack is not enough to stale the vampire, what can you do? A witch with so little magic, unequipped and alone in the woods. If you reach out now, with the reminder of your bond only just coming to fruition, will the wolves be able to make it to you? With so little space between you and the beast, you fear your dear wolves will only arrive to find your limp corpse, drained of blood and blank to the world. 

The thought is a sickening lump you cannot swallow. 

As the vampire closes in, the acrid feeling in your throat pushes into your mouth. Stomach swelling and turning with fear, your pulse stutters again. With so little options left, you decide you will take your chances. 

Acting with haste, you lift from the depths of your hiding place and immediately push off the balls of your feet. Taking off into the trees, you race away from the path in the hopes that the mass of trees and winding steps will allow you a little breadth from the vampire. Heart racing and feeling your lungs wheeze with each inhale, you push yourself beyond your limits. With your life in the balance, the adrenaline allows you to keep running. 

With your legs pumping, you finally reach out. 

You hope you can maintain enough distance between you and the vampire for the wolves to arrive. There's not much of a chance, but you hope that you’ll at least give them a chance. Any sooner, and you fear they’ll be finding your lifeless body. As you reach out now, panic fueled terror racing down the connection, you pull at any of the strings you manage to grasp. It’s so difficult to focus on the bond as you race through the trees, but you force yourself to continue. It’s your only chance. 

You do not have the conscious thought to feel how they respond.  

The vampire, seeming to have expected this, snarls and takes off behind you. 

His much quicker form descends on you quickly, easily keeping pace with you. He seems to be enjoying the chase, hooting as tears leak from your eyes and blur your vision. With your path winding between trees and dodging fallen logs, you're able to maintain a fraction of distance between yourself and the beast. 

This is far different from the chases between you and the werewolves. 

Those runs left you feeling light and excited, body rushing with a pleasant buzz of adrenaline and the longing humming in the bond. In those moments, the thrill was shared consensually between both you and the wolves, keeping the both of you ecstatic for each moment. 

This chase, between you and a monstrous beast who intends to drain your body of its precious life-force, is much different. 

The adrenaline that fuels you now is not of excitement, but that of terror. It pumps into your limbs and keeps you from shaking. However, it does nothing for the panic that crashes into your head. Your mind races with fear and you cannot push away the tears that race down your cheeks. With your thoughts solely focused on dodging the trunks of trees and the lashing of outstretched branches, you do not have a conscious track of mind to stop the salty liquid from blurring your vision. 

Legs pumping and calves burning, you are powerless to the vampire’s strength. With a pained cry, he collides with you. It’s a short moment, just enough for the monster to shove you off your feet. 

Heart a swollen lump in your throat, you weep out a sobbing sound of fear as you tumble down a short cliff side. Sharp branches cutting into your skin, exposing the bloody flesh underneath, you hiss in pain. Your fall is stopped when you collide with a fallen tree trunk. Back slamming into the pine, you squeak another miserable sound. 

Terror squeezes you tight. You can barely feel the stinging pain of the open wounds under the grip of fear. Blood drips down the bare skin of your arms, but you can barely feel it. The throb in your ankle burns from where you’ve likely sprained it, and you pull the limbs closer to you. 

Now openly weeping, you choke on the cry that tries to break free from your lungs. 

“Please!” you cry, the sound warbled by the blur of tears. Clutching your arms to your chest, you try to put pressure on the bleeding scrapes. Any attempt to cover the blood from the nose of the vampire is fruitless. 

The vampire laughs coldly as he emerges from the darkness. Sun now long gone from the sky, the vampire has nothing to fear. 

“Don't cry, Pet,” he mocks with smugness. “It’s only a taste.” 

Frantically now, you pull harder on the bond. Yanking as strongly as you can, ignorant to the pulses of fear you send alongside it, you furiously pull with the hopes they can discern your plea. 

As he descends towards you, a cruel smirk smeared across his face, you finally begin to tremble. Holding a single hand out, you summon every fiber of magic in your form and force it outward. It weakens you greatly, taking every thread of energy along with the flare of magic. The resulting burst of flame is only a momentary distraction, singing the vampire’s clothes as he pushes closer. 

Snarling at your attempt to fight, he laughs cruelly as he finally closes in on your shaking form. Weeping and trembling, you weakly drop your hand and finally curl upon yourself in an attempt to cover your vital organs. 

When the vile beast is inches from your skin, a startling moment passes as he hisses and suddenly draws back as if your very being is laced with poison. A frown twisting his features, you are no longer aware of his actions as you pull yourself tighter into your body. 

“You cunning witch!” the vampire sneers, disgust leaking into his voice. “You’ve been marked by a wolf clan!” 

The monstrous beast’s words are punctuated with the chilling sound of a wolf howl slicing through the bleak hours of night. 

It’s a broken, mourning sound – brimming with pain and a longing so fierce you feel it in your own heart. The howl is soon accompanied by more. Seven more wolves join the call, an aching fear conveyed in their fragmented sound. They’re in pain; but it is not their own. 

They’ve heard your plea. 

They had not been far. They had been following your train since dusk had settled. Knowing the vampire was still on the loose, Minho and Chan had tracked it to the eastern border that afternoon and carefully swept through the rest of the territory for signs of the beast. Yet, they had still come up empty. 

Hyunjin and Han had immediately picked up the hints of your scent. With the rest of their mates not far behind, the wolves had not been far behind when the red string binding your fates had come alive. 

Intense panic is the first to strike them. Filtering with speed through their bodies, the anxiety is laced with the grip of terror. It surges through them with an aching pulse, stronger than anything they’ve felt from you. Not long after, the frantic tugging of the bond yanks furiously at their chests. 

Hyunjin nearly collapses on his feet. Knees weak, his chest aches at the weight of your fear. It’s terrifying, and the dark coated wolf is suddenly struck with a sickening grief. His fur shakes when Hyunjin waves his head to force away the feeling. It is too soon to mourn you, and Hyunjin will not let the ninth piece of their bond be taken so easily. 

It’s blinding. The immense grip of pure despair grips them tight, each of your panic-laced emotions being sent down the bond. Whining out of desperation, Felix crumples into Changbin. Weak to the strength of your fear, he barely pulls himself back onto his feet. He cannot let himself fall now. Changbin buries his nose into the younger’s muzzle, breathing in the scent of his partner and hoping the smell, despite the souring tinge, will help him maintain his balance. 

Chan is the one whose head knocks back into the first despairing howl, the ache of your pain fueling the mournful sound.

With the weight of the world on his shoulders, Chan feels weaker than he’s ever been. The aching sound leaves his chest with a cry of overflowing pain. In his many years, he swears he’s never felt such a surge of grief – not even when Seungmin had gotten caught in a bear trap years ago. Even then, he’d been assured that he could protect his partner - could care for him and nurse him to health. 

Now, with the overwhelming grip of panic in his chest, Chan fears he may lose you before he's even had the chance to love you.

It all happens in a single moment. The fear knocks into them - Chan howls, and then all eight of the wolves are moving. Taking off with a blinding speed, they race through the forest with the traces of your scent fresh in their minds. Only you and your desperate plea for help present in their minds, they push themselves quicker. 

Seven baying sounds echo into the night not long after their leaders. 

In a combined harmony, the werewolves convey their mournful rage. Despite the fear, the sound is brimming with overwhelming anger, for a member of the wolf pack has been threatened; a notion that grounds for a revenge even the High King of Hell himself, could not prevent. 

The pack leader swears he’s never been this scared. Your desperate plea for help has struck him so deeply, he fears it will be the last thing he ever feels from your end of the string that connects you. The eldest can barely manage a weak tug on your bond as he pants in exertion, praying it can provide you some reassurance; they’re coming, it says - just wait a moment longer, they’re coming.

While the howling echo was meant to be a notion of fear for its prey, you can only exhale a sigh of relief. They’ve heard you, it reassures, they’ve heard you and they’re on their way. 

The vampire steps away for a second, seeming to filter through his options. He takes a glance at the trees behind him and then back at your frightened form, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to decide what to do. You’ve been marked by this wolf pack – their scents are strong on your form, intertwining under the sweetness of your own. If he harms you now, he is certain to face the wrath of the pack. Even if he leaves the borders of their territory, they are sure to hunt him down for laying a hand on someone they've marked. No mating mark may lay on your skin, but you are quite clearly bound to this wolf pack – scar visible, or not. 

He doesn’t have time to make a decision.

With the sound of your weeping guiding the werewolves to your location, the vampire suddenly has no time to escape. He turns fruitlessly to locate the easiest method of exiting the bounds of their territory, hair whipping into his face. 

Your chest aches with the dregs of terror, body so desperately weak from the magic you had expelled. Sagging into the trunk behind you and adrenaline waning, the burn of your wounds begin to settle. Fear still lodged into your mind and body still curled upon itself, you do not see the vampire attempt to run. 

You only hear the furious snarl of a wolf’s growl and the pounding of feet on the earth. 

The roaring of panic in your ears is suddenly replaced by the gnashing of teeth and sharp howls of anger. Branches snap and claws scratch against the dirt. Rustling of various footsteps and the sound of sharpened incisions snapping against flesh fill your senses as the wolves descend upon you and the vampire. Clutching your ears tightly with bloodied fingers, you curl tighter on yourself. 

You don’t want to watch. 

You know the wolves are strong, but you fear having to see the vampire harm them. 

Whimpering with tears still slowly dripping down your skin, you do not see the towering, angry form of Chan’s silver wolf break into the clearing. Nor do you see Minho’s enraged snarl as he bursts forth from behind his pack leader. His teeth drip with saliva as he lunges for the vampire. Eyes locked on the beast, he barely manages a glimpse at your terrified form, bleeding and curled tightly on itself against a tree trunk. The sight fuels his protective anger, and his jaws clasp tightly upon the vampire with a furious sound. 

Jisung is the first of the wolves who’s anger wanes at the sight of your crumpled form. 

Strewn against the trunk of a fallen pine tree, you’ve curled upon yourself and clutched your ears tight. Blood drips from your fingers, as if you’ve tried to ebb the flow of blood from the scrapes and scratches that litter your exposed skin. The scent of terror clings to your form, and Jisung nearly gags on the acrid taste. 

Yet underneath the fear, Jisung still smells the sweet, gentle honeyed scent that usually clings to your body. He can still imagine the excited smile that stretched across your cheeks after your first chase, and oh, seven hells - does Jisung want to see that smile again. 

Breaking through the line of his furious partners, Jisung is the first to descend on your trembling form. 

Transforming to bare skin, Jisung collapses to his knees at your side. Watery eyes wide, his hands hover over your skin - afraid to frighten you with his touch. Reaching out, with his heart still pounding and anxiety a sickening lump in his throat, Jisung pulls gently at the red string binding you together. His side pulses with waves of comfort, praying the warmth will remind you of his presence. 

“Shh, Darling,” his teary voice murmurs so quietly. He’s dropped low, whispering the words into your ear, so different from when Hyunjin had muttered salacious teases. “S’alright, Angel - s’just me, s’Hannie.” 

When your fearful eyes finally pry open, wet from salty tears and pupils blown wide, Jisung feels his heart clench in his chest. Seemingly separated from the chaos just behind him, Jisung can only see your sweet form – only feel the stuttered beats of surprise and grateful pulses from your bond. 

“Sungie?” 

At the watery, broken cry of his name, Jisung cannot hold back. Chest aching, he pulls you into his body. Both of your bodies are trembling, and Jisung finally allows the salty tears to fall onto his round cheeks. Weeping softly as he feels your shaking arms wrap tightly around his back, he clutches you tight. You respond with the same fervor, as if you fear that in the next moment, he’ll be torn from you. 

“Yeah, Baby - s’me, you’re okay,” his weeping voice murmurs, words spoken directly into the skin of your neck. His reassurances seem to help as you sag into his arms, finally succumbing to the adrenaline rush. “We’re here, s’fine - you’re safe.” 

From behind Jisung, Changbin is not far behind Minho, and he snarls as he grasps hold of one of the beast's legs. The vampire cries out, but they are not swayed. The werewolves are fueled by the protective rage that swells through their bond. You are terrified and in danger, and they go to the ends of the Earth to ensure your safety. 

Hyunjin is the next to descend on the vampire, teeth sharp as they pierce skin. Blood fills his mouth, but Hyunjin is used to the feeling. His head is split between approaching you and swaddling you in his arms, aching to reassure you, and the brimming rage that seizes him tight. But with how you clutch to Jisung, eyes squeezed shut and attempting to push out the sounds of a fight, Hyunjin knows he must expel the traces of anger before approaching you.

He will not scare you like this.

Tugging sharply on the vampire, Minho and Changbin understand the message and begin to drag the beast away. He kicks and screams, trying desperately to get away from the grip of the wolves, but his attempts are fruitless. And when Seungmin lunges forward, rage finally overflowing upon sight of your terrified form, he cannot help the way his teeth sink into the vampire's neck, silencing the beast once and for all with a sickening crack. 

Felix is already at your side before the sounds can reach your ears. Gentle hands settling over your ears, the blonde keeps the gruesome cacophony of noise from reaching you. His hands are trembling, but he keeps them steady enough to maintain coverage. Felix’s eyes are teary, salty tracks covering his cheeks as he does so. Nonetheless, the touch of your warm skin under his hands seems to reassure him and reduce the shaking. 

He hums under his breath, pushing his chest into your back and hoping that the sound of his voice will drown out the rest.

When the four wolves drag away the body, not wanting you to see the horrors of death, Chan finally steps forward. 

He trusts his mates to take care of the vampire. Chan knows he does not have to worry about the rage that still simmers in his chest, and though he aches to give the beast a beating of his own, Chan knows there are more important matters at hand. 

When Chan finally shifts from his wolfish form, silver fur giving way to soft skin and worried eyes, he’s already on you. 

“Baby!” he cries, a sob of his own swelling in his chest. Despite all the strength he upheld as pack leader, Chan finally succumbs to the worry and the fear that gripped him so tight. He collapses at your side, bond crying out with reassurance and sweetly attempting to comfort you. “Baby - oh fuck, Angel.” 

Over the lump in his throat, Chan leans forward, hands hovering over your skin. He’s scared to touch you. Now in front of you for the first time as a human, with terror still seizing your mind, Chan doesn’t want to scare you. His wolf whines pitifully, longing to pull you into him, but Chan waits. 

When you feel the sweet hum of his connection call out, your eyes crack open and pitifully peer at him from the depths of Jisung’s chest. The dregs of fear still pulsing through you, you cannot stop the trembles that still rake through you. 

“Chan?” 

Felix has never heard such a mournful whimper pull from his Alpha’s chest. 

Finally giving into the longing ache, Chan pulls you into him with a gasping cry. Jisung loosens his grip, allowing his Alpha the chance to feel your skin against his. Chan lets the fear escape his chest with a weeping sob, his own tears burning at his eyes. With your skin pressed against his bare chest, Chan knows you’re safe. The heat of your body is a pleasant burn he never wants to extinguish. 

Your first glimpse of the pack’s Alpha is halted as he draws you into his chest with muscular arms. You cannot be upset about the motion, feeling the shake of your limbs already beginning to settle as his bare skin presses against yours. The pack leader openly sobs out a saddened sound, pulling you tightly into him with your bond flaring strongly. 

Chan is beautiful. 

Your weary eyes barely glimpse full lips and dark eyes as they tiredly fall closed, but you know Chan is utterly gorgeous. There's a faint red scar across the bridge of nose, crossing across his cheeks, but the strength that it implies only makes him more gorgeous. With how brightly your chest swells with affection, quickly replacing the fear, you knew you would find yourself entrapped by his beauty soon enough.

Exhaling a shaky sound, you try to push yourself closer with weak limbs. Chan feels you shift and tugs you closer with a whimper, nose pressing into your hair as a tremble of his own shakes through him. He inhales deeply, savoring the honeyed glimpse of your scent beneath the acrid taste of panic. 

“You caught me,” you tiredly whimper into his chest, collapsing with the last glimpses of adrenaline finally leaving you. 

From behind you, you feel more forms push closer. 

Felix sobs out a weepy sound, and you find yourself saddened that you don’t have the energy to send a wave of comfort to him. His warm skin presses against your side, pushing you closer to Chan as another form piles into your sweet embrace. You vaguely recognize Jeongin’s sweet aura as he clutches you from your other side. The youngest is crying, tears wetting the skin of your neck from where he pushes his head into the crevice beneath your jaw, but you don’t care.  

You can sense that Seungmin is not far behind. Unable to reach you from the depths of the clutches of his older partners, you manage to reach out a hand through the mess of tangled limbs. Seungmin grasps hold of the appendage with a tight grip, squeezing happily as he pushes his face into Jeongin’s neck. 

It’s not long before the rest of the pack descends on your pile. Clutching each other in a warm, muddled clutter of relieved bodies, the remaining wolves pull each other tight. The fear that previously radiated through the bond slowly seeps away to reveal sweet relief and comfort. 

Chan weeps a laugh at your words, chest shaking with the combination of it and a sob. His next words are spoken into your hair, lips pressing a short kiss to the threads with warmth radiating from his mouth. 

“Yeah, we caught ya, Pretty,” 

When spring has finally settled in the forest, Lupin flowers blooming in bright hues of lavender and cornflower blue, you decide it’s finally time. Unbeknownst to you, the first few days of spring mark a shift between the werewolves. You can’t sense it, not with your human ability to smell. 

Mating season has begun. 

It keeps the werewolves high strung. The urge to incorporate you into the pack is stronger than ever. Every flash of your skin has them panting, and every hint of your arousal has their mouth watering. 

Hyunjin had been teasing you for weeks, playfully poking at you and trying to incite you into a final challenge. He managed to rope some of the others into his taunts, keeping the excitement of the chase fresh in your mind. 

Not long after you had settled into their lives, Felix had been the one to mention the mating mark. You had been eyeing the faded blush-colored scar with warmth in your gaze. Analyzing the teeth marks and attempting to identify which scars were the mark of incisors, you vaguely wonder whose teeth had left the mark. 

Felix’s lips had pulled into a wide grin when he noticed, pulling you closer to his bare chest with a laugh. His skin was warm against yours, and despite being subjected to their exposed skin in the weeks past, the notion of Felix's smooth, freckled skin still made you dizzy. With heat in your cheeks and ears burning, you buried your bashful look into the muscle of his chest in an attempt to hide from his prying eyes. 

“Baby!” he laughed, chest rumbling with the sound, “s’nothing to be embarrassed about. You can ask if you want.” 

From across the room, Hyunjin lifted his head from where it rested against the back of the couch. Jeongin, in between his legs - had too, raised his own head with interest in the conversation. 

“Yeah, Pretty – you can ask Chan-hyung to give you a mark of your own too,” the long-haired man mirthfully teased. Jeongin giggled in Hyunjin’s arms, his teeth shining when a grin stretched across his lips. The youngest’s own mark seemed to glimmer in the light when his loose shirt shifted across his clavicle. 

Your eyes followed the trail of teeth on Jeongin’s skin, spotting a second flash of teeth not far from the first. When Hyunjin titled his head, allowing his hair to fall away from his skin, you caught sight of the largest mark imprinted in the flesh to the side of his throat. Two more rosy rows of teeth rested in the smoothness of his skin aside the first.

You begin to wonder how many of these bite marks littered each of the wolves. 

Pulling your eyes from the ridges of Felix’s chest, you raised them to meet the teasing eyes of Hyunjin. “Do you all have them? The bite marks, I mean.” 

Hyunjin hums in response, a spark flickering across his gaze. His arms wind tighter across Jeongin’s chest at the reminder of how his partners have sunk their teeth into his skin. Face warming with the heat of the memory, his lids flutter with an indecent look.

“They’re mating marks,” Changbin cuts in, beside Hyunjin. His eyes were focused on the notebook in his hands, but he was clearly listening to your conversation. His dark eyes look up from the worn leather for a moment, catching yours with something similar to Hyunjin’s own arousal glimmering in the depths. 

“Mating marks?” Your tongue rolls carefully over the words. Spoken silently to yourself, your mind rolls with the implication. 

Felix’s chest rumbles with another answering hum. From where you lay on the floor beneath the couch, you feel something hot flash through the bond in a quick moment. It’s so fast you cannot tell from whom it originated. 

Minho is the next to fill in the blanks. Jisung is pressed tightly to his side, Seungmin not far, their eyes drawn to the television where they’re engaged in a fierce battle of Mario Kart. 

“When the bond is accepted and courting finishes, mating marks seal the connection between bonded packs. They lay claim over each other – everyone is bound to each other through ‘em.” 

A flush of heat fills your stomach. 

Something indecent rolls through your chest and you feel your skin becoming littered with pleasant goosebumps. You don’t know why the thought is so enticing. The thought of teeth pressing into your skin, claiming you once and for all, is something that makes your chest ache and your thighs rub together. 

Attempting to hide your interest, you look back into Felix’s chest, but your spiked acknowledgment is not missed by the others. If your bashful look doesn't give it away, the distant hum of arousal from the bond certainly does. New to the red string intertwining you with the wolves, you’re unable to stop the stronger waves of emotion from filtering through. 

Nonetheless, they wouldn’t need the bond to know you have become interested in the marks. The sweet, honeyed scent of arousal permeating the air and the twinge of your uncontrolled pheromones are evidence enough. 

Minho’s lips raise into a smirk. 

Catching the enticing scent, the wolf inside him howls with a challenge. 

“Oh,” his words drip with salacious undertones. “Are you interested, Pretty?” 

Your eyes dart up to meet him. Swallowing once, you attempt to speak around the lump that has risen in your throat. Suddenly feeling so small under his lowered, teasing eyes, you find yourself unable to respond. 

“Hm, I think she is, Hyung,” Jisung’s voice responds. He’s dropped his controller, looking away from the shining lights of the television at the sweet waves of your scent. His eyes have darkened, dilated pupils beginning to swell. 

Hyunjin soon joins the attack, leaning forward with Jeongin still clutched to his chest. 

“Yeah, I knew it. You want a mark of your own, Pretty Girl?” 

You withhold a whimper into Felix’s chest, but the silver blonde hears it anyway. His own shiver of arousal shaking through him, Felix clutches you tighter. He feels something stir in his gut, and the sharp sting of incisors press against his gums as he resists leaning forward to scrape the fangs across your flesh. 

When Chan steps through the doorway to the living room, the air is thick with the scent of arousal. 

Heart thumping and dominance surging, the pack leader hums to grab your attention. His eyes fall to your body, clutched tightly in Felix’s arms with your eyes wide and pulse racing. 

“S’going on in here?” 

Tension broken, eyes are immediately drawn to the Alpha. The air still simmers with pulses of lust, and Chan feels as though it will soon begin to drown him if he doesn’t do something soon. 

Minho is quick to respond, taking charge as second-in-command. “Angel was just telling us how much she wants a mating mark, Chan.” 

The pack leader’s aura flushes. 

Power radiates through the room, and the wolves feel Chan’s own surprised flood of dominance filter into the atmosphere. They’re under his command, tense and muscles ready to spring onto you at their Alpha’s command.

“S’that so, Pretty Baby?” 

You can’t look at him. Chan’s aura overflows with an assertive wave of power. He commands the room, and you fear if you meet his eyes, you’ll give in without the thrill of the chase. However, you do find yourself nodding into Felix's warm chest, making your consent well known. 

Not responding, Chan hums sweetly. With darkened irises and the pleasant hum of desire in his veins, Chan can feel his teeth push against his gums. His inner wolf howls to lay claim on you now, with your consent made apparent, all that’s left is to sink his teeth into your skin. 

But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? 

Chan is quick to propose a final chase. 

One last race through the woods. With the mating mark made clear, the first to catch you can be the first to have you – of course, right after the Alpha lays claim. Chan will always get priority, even if he is not the one to capture you first. Though he severely doubts he won’t be. 

Everything happens so quickly. 

Felix pushes you gently off his chest, pulling you to your feet and guiding you towards your room. Well, you suppose it’s actually Chan’s room, but the leader has made it clear you have a place in it as much as he does. With a delicate command to prepare yourself, your heart begins to race with the familiar thrill of adrenaline - the good kind. 

You burrow through the mess of clothing in your drawers, a smirk pulls on the edges of your lips when you find what you’re looking for. After the incident with the vampire, Chan and the others had never seen your last gift. You had intended for that night to go so much differently, but you suppose now is as good of a time as any to present the pale pink lace of the lingerie. 

Tiny, rosy pink daisies litter the sheer fabric, intertwining with the blush and darkened hues of roses. Dark green stems connect the flowers, tastefully just covering the most indecent of places. The faint pink lace barely covers anything, and it’s by far the most lewd thing you’ve ever bought, let alone worn. 

When you slide it on, some sense of pride inflates your chest. It’s a fleeting feeling, one you find you don’t often experience in reference to your own body, but you thrive under its wave. It feels nice to admire your own skin and size for once, and you remind yourself to do it more often. Learning to love yourself is a hard road, but you hope you’ll learn to love your own skin soon. 

Choosing to forgo the complications of too much clothing, you slip on one of the boys’ oversize shirts. You can’t tell whose it is, as even their shirts run sizes too large so that they can be cut and loose, but the scents on it are familiar, as always. Hyunjin wore it last, that you can tell, and you hope the notion of nothing but lingerie beneath it will drive him mad. 

You honestly hope you’ll be caught quickly. Even despite the arousal and implication of mating marks, running with nothing but a large t-shirt is sure to cause your thighs some chafing. However, you cannot bring yourself to put anything else on, knowing the sentiment will make the chase more enticing. 

When you reenter the living room, all eight of the werewolves are standing. Murmuring amongst themselves, desire roaring in their stomachs, they turn to look at you when you enter the room. 

“Oh fuck,” Changbin murmurs, mouth going dry at the sight. He has to readjust his pants to hide the growing problem between his thighs. Cursing under his breath, running with a boner is sure to be a pain. 

“Hm, our little tease, isn’t she?” Minho coos, voice dripping with filthy undertones. 

Hyunjin nearly purrs at the expanse of your bare legs. Eyes scanning every inch of your exposed flesh, he feels his spine shake with a familiar arousal. 

“You wearing anything under that, Pretty?” 

Despite the weight of their dominating auras, you manage a hum in response to Hyunjin. “Mhm! It’s the present Binnie asked for.” 

Changbin snarls at your words, chest vibrating as he feels another bolt of heat twist his gut. Imaging the pretty pink lace underneath the darkness of your shirt, he and Hyunjin know exactly of the gift you speak of. Felix too, rumbles pleasantly at the reminder of your meeting so long ago. 

“Present?” Jisung murmurs in question. 

Changbin hums his gruff, deep response. “You remember her last ‘gift’? I asked her to wear something pink next time - Chan-hyung’s favorite and all.” 

The pack leader goes weak in the knees with a lusty groan. His eyes close and his head knocks back at his lover’s words. The reminder of the tiny pair of panties clutched in his fist, now imagining them pink and stained with your arousal, has his mind finally drowning a ferocious desire. 

“Oh Baby, you’ve done it now,” Chan’s deepened tone coos. When his eyes open, brown hair falling across his forehead and highlighting the red scar across his nose, there’s a fire burning brightly in the depths. “You sure you want this? Once we start, I won’t be able to stop myself, Sweetheart – not now that I know what’s under that pretty dress.” 

Your nod is immediate. You’ve never been more sure of anything. These eight wolves are yours now, just as much as you are theirs. Chest thumping, Chan purrs a hum in response. 

“Don’t make it too easy then, Pretty,” Chan murmurs, nose grazing your skin as he leans in close. “Gonna ruin you when I catch you - gotta’ savor our prize right?” 

And the final chase begins. 

They have given you a head start. Just two minutes, but it’s enough time to clear some distance between you. They aren’t wolves this time – just humans, but supernatural humans with enhanced senses and incredible speed and strength. They’ll still be able to catch up quickly. 

You know there’s not much you can do when it comes to hiding this time. With how strong your arousal thrums between your thighs, there’s no chance they won’t be able to seek you out by scent alone. 

Leaping over a fallen branch, you pant heavily with a wide grin on your face. Probably looking a little insane as you race through the woods with a manic smile, clad in nothing but a black shirt and lingerie beneath it, you laugh freely into the spring air. 

You don't know how much distance you’ve put between you and the pack house, unable to keep track of time since Chan had started the chase. Regardless, you continue pushing your calves to run through the trees with your chest sizzling with the familiar buzz of adrenaline. 

Only a few moments later, you hear excited hoots and shouts fill the air.

Your two minutes are up. 

Excitement bursting again, you force yourself faster. You know it won’t be long before they catch up, but you want to give them a chase worthy of being called the last. 

Distantly, you feel one of them tug on the bond, chest being pulled in their direction, but you ignore it. Dirty tricks didn't work before, and they wouldn’t now. Allowing a smirk to pull at your lips, you continued to race, kicking up dirt from the earthen ground. 

You feel him as soon as he breaks through the tree line at your back. Minho, second-in-command, was one of the fastest of the wolves in their human forms. Now, driven mad by you, he has a mission in mind as he pursues your racing form. 

You don’t have to turn to know he’s behind you. 

He’s closing on your fast, his strides longer than yours and heart pumping just as quick. You barely have the conscious mind to consider your options, but vaguely you wonder if the same trick will work twice. You can tell he’s a few steps in front of the others, so you’ll only have a moment’s chance if it’s to work. 

As Minho descends on you, breath in your throat as his hand reaches out, you lunge to the side again. Your heart leaps, skipping a pulse as Minho skids on his feet. He barely manages to catch himself before he falls, cursing loudly at your cheap trick. 

“Hah! I can’t believe you fell for it again!” 

A growl loosens from Minho’s chest, and he’s running after you again. 

Escaping Minho has allowed you a moment to maintain the distance between the boys, though it’s still not much. They’re still hot at your heels, fueled by carnal desire and thoughts of your skin beneath their hands. Heat still sizzles between your thighs, and you feel the lining of your panties dampen at the sound that escapes Minho’s chest. 

Distantly, you hear another let out a groaning sound, as if they smell the arousal slowly leaking from between your thighs. The thought makes you lightheaded. 

Another laugh leaving your lips, you duck under a low hanging branch, the boys hot at your heels. Confident in your lead, you allow yourself to miss the missing aura that is missing behind you. With your mind focused on keeping ahead of the werewolves, you’ve missed an alarmingly crucial clue: there are only seven auras behind you. 

You're smart. Hyunjin had Minho had both conveyed this when they returned from their individual chases. Able to outmaneuver them both, they were impressed by your ingenuity. 

Yet, even despite your intelligence, you could not outsmart Chan. 

Instead of joining his pack, pushing you from behind as the others had, Chan burned with the passion that would guarantee his success; and he chose another route. 

You don’t see him coming. 

Racing through the pines, his arms pumping and veins fueled with a primal lust, Chan had taken off in the other direction. Your scent clinging to his senses, he swears he can already taste the sweet arousal that leaks into your panties. A smirk tugging at his lips, Chan races for you head on. 

He pursues you from the front, rather than behind. Seeming to know exactly what routes you would take through the forest, he knew precisely where he could cut you off. 

When his panting, muscular form breaks through the trees in front of you, your slam to a stop on your feet. Skidding an inch, you pant with widened, surprised eyes. Chan stands in front of you, pupils blown and dark, sweat dripping across his forehead and down the bridge of his nose, smearing along the red scar. 

His muscular biceps bulge in his tight, black shirt, and your mouth waters at the sight. You only have half a moment to take him in before his smirk deepens and he pushes off the balls of his feet, lunging for you. A growl pulls from deep within his chest and you squeal as you try to dodge his strong hands. 

Your efforts are futile. Even as you attempt to evade his grip, twisting as you make for the forest, Chan’s already moving - quicker and stronger than you. Of course, if you had half a mind to focus on it, the thought of his superior size and strength would drive you wild, but you didn’t have the chance. 

“Chan!” you squeal, squirming as you attempt to wiggle out of his grip, wanting to continue the chase and feel the adrenaline pumping through you. The Alpha groans deeply when his name falls from your lips, already imagining the sound twisted into gasps of pleasure. Head knocking back, Chan’s muscles bulge as he wraps you in his grasp. 

Your skin hot against his, Chan moans out a sweet sound that has your stomach turning. His biceps flex under your squirming, and it’s so enticing to feel how he manhandles you into his chest. One strong hand manages to grasp both your wrists, pulling them behind your back as he tugs you close. Your back against his front, hands in his grip, Chan hums pleasantly with you now trapped in his hold. 

“Yeah, s’it, Pretty Baby – say my name.” 

Your knees weaken. 

Unable to move in Chan’s tight grip, you’re left defenseless to the seven wolves that soon descend. 

Unsurprisingly, Hyunjin is the next to capture you. The taller man’s figure leans over yours with a daunting smirk, his eyes shining with carnality. His chest pushing against your front, Hyunjin’s head leans over yours and you’re forced to look up at him when his hand reaches out. Thin fingers expanding over your throat, Hyunjin applies a little pressure to your neck, exhaling a groaning sound when you whimper.

“Dirty girl,” he purrs, fingers tightening across your throat in a pleasant pressure that makes your head spin. Hyunjin’s grin is wild as he does so, finding the sounds you let out make his chest swell with pride. “I told you I’d catch you next time, didn’t I?” 

You think you might leak through your pretty pink underwear. Legs trembling and head turning, eyes barely able to keep hold of Hyunjin’s lusty ones, you barely realize when the others join the fun. 

Minho, obviously holding a little grudge from missing you twice, is at your right. His hands are hot to the touch. Chan laughs a cocky chuckle when his second-in-command immediately drops to his knees. Minho rolls his eyes, lips already leaning forward to press into the skin of the inside of your knee. When you squirm, legs visibly shaking at the touch of Minho’s soft, full lips on your bare skin, his hand drifts higher. Gripping your thigh tight in his big hand, he murmurs his next words directly into the skin of your thigh.

“Stop squirming, Angel.” 

You whine again, head knocking back with a keen. Going limp in their hold, your head rests against Chan’s collarbone. The pack leader smirks in victory. He loves watching the bashful look on your face twist into something darker. 

“Hannie,” Minho commands, not looking away from his place on his knees, “Come help me, will you?” 

Jisung does not hesitate. Taking your other side, his hand slides around your waist to squeeze you once. Then, with a salacious grin at the dripping honey smell of your arousal, his hands drop. Sliding pleasantly down your stomach in between you and Hyunjin - of course, taking a moment to run gently over the skin of Hyunjin’s stomach - Jisung’s hands slide beneath the fabric of your shirt. 

This time, Jisung lets out an obscene sound when the tips of his fingers graze the soft lace wrapped around your hips. 

“Fuck, Baby,” he murmurs with a whining sound. Fingers drift, lifting the hem of your shirt higher, allowing Minho a glimpse of the fabric that lay beneath. He pushes closer, face lifting until his head is level with your hips, which are pushed against Hyunjin’s. The taller man groans when Minho’s hand comes up, cock twitching when his lover’s fingers toy with the bulge in his pants. When he leans away a little, leaving space for Minho to dive between, only your chest remains pressed against Hyunjin. 

Before Jisung has a moment to explore further, Seungmin reaches from behind, his fingers lightning quick as they rip your shirt upwards. Eight sounds of approval sound out when the material is lifted above your chest, allowing them a first look at the pretty pink lingerie you’ve chosen. 

Chan, however, does not have the best angle to see the sweet panties you’ve chosen for him with Seungmin lifting the shirt in front of his face. With a disgruntled sound, his eyes lift to Hyunjin’s, grinding his hips forward into your backside as he does so. You keen, and Hyunjin smiles. 

“Pretty Boy, keep her hands out of the way f’me.” 

Then, Chan releases his grip on your wrists and pushes them around to your front, where Hyunjin’s waiting grasp wraps securely around them once more. Now in Hyunjin’s hold, Chan has both hands free, and he doesn’t waste a second. Exchanging a look with Seungmin, Chan’s hands lift to grasp both sides of the color of your shirt. Biceps flexing, the pack leader grips the material tight and then tears it down the middle. 

His display of strength has you lightheaded.

Now exposed, the eight can admire the sweet little bra that adorns your chest. Tits practically spilling from the material, Chan hums pleasantly, his eyes going hazy. By now, he feels the growing need to release his dick from his pants, unable to take the throbbing against the tight material. Changbin shares the sentiment, the three remaining men finding the means to occupy themselves with each other. Felix is already under Changbin’s grip, his eyes having trouble drifting back and forth from you and his dark haired partner. 

Chan growls pleasantly at the sight of the pink lingerie, one of his hands sliding around to join Jisung in toying with the hem of the rosy panties. Minho’s lips are on your inner thigh, and he sucks in a heated breath when he catches a taste of your arousal on his tongue. Fingers inch closer, his forefingers rubbing gently across the thin material that separates him from your slit. Rubbing a teasing circle, your head knocks back again.

Yeah, you manage to think - they’re definitely stained now. 

“Oh, fuck me,” Chan murmurs, voice dripping with honey. “Look s’good in pink, Angel.” 

Minho hums in agreement, teeth skimming across your thigh. It trembles under the glimpse of his sharp incisors, and Minho mirthfully laughs. He knows exactly where he wants to put his mark. It’s a favorite of his, apparently, if the mating marks on Jisung, Hyunjin and Felix’s thighs have anything to say. 

“Better take a deep breath, Pretty,” Hyunjin murmurs directly into your ear, lips grazing the shell. “M’gonna fuck ya stupid when Chan’s done with you.” 

Chan laughs when you whine, and when Hyunjin’s hand slides away from your throat, they’re quickly replaced with the feeling of Chan’s teeth scraping across the skin. You squirm under him, feeling both so heavy and so light at the same time. You swear the combined touch from them will kill you. 

Felix seems to think similarly, a whine of his own skipping from his lips when Jeongin’s hand slides beneath the button of his jeans. The youngest smirks, obviously enjoying having Felix weak under his touch. However, he’s interrupted when Changbin slides his own hand down the younger’s back, making Jeongin shiver. You desperately want to open your eyes - to look at the blonde when he makes such pretty sounds, but you’re prevented when Chan playfully nibbles on the skin of your throat. They’ll have their turn with you soon. 

“Watch her, Lixie,” Changbin murmurs. Your skin seems to heat even hotter, and you feel as though you’ll pass out under their eyes. “She’ll be falling apart on Chan’s cock soon, don’t ya wanna’ watch?” 

The sentiment of the pack Alpha’s teeth against you strikes with a heated stir of your stomach: Chan’s going to claim you, just as the rest of them will. And though you don’t have the teeth to leave a permanent mark of your own, you are sure you’ll leave plenty of fading ones on their skin too. 

They’re yours now, just as much as you are theirs. 

You lean back into Chan with eyes closing out of ecstasy, despite only being teased so far. The leader smirks and you feel it on your throat. Jisung finally grows tired of toying with the fabric between his fingers and finally peels them away from your hips, giving way for Minho's lips to explore new territory. Chan feels his dick twitch when Minho lets out a pleased groan at your taste, finally able to suck you into his mouth as he wants. 

“Yeah, you like that, Baby?” Chan hums, teeth scraping over your skin, finding the place where he wants to sink them beneath the flesh. It won’t hurt, he knows. Rather, he thinks you’ll quite like the rush of pleasure that comes from a werewolf’s bite. “Get ready, Pretty - I caught ya,’ and m’not gonna be gentle.” 

Teeth sharpening and incisors sliding forward, Chan angles his head so that his mating mark will be candid for all to see. 

“You're ours now.” 

His teeth sink in. 

bonus: 

reader, sitting with the dewdrops at dawn!reader: ... 

reader: so,,, demons?

dewdrops at dawn!reader, nodding: werewolves? 

reader, also nodding: ...

dewdrops at dawn!reader: ... 

reader: are we monster fuckers? 

a/n: listen,,, I like skz, okay? this is totally not like 20k words written in a daze of hard hours, I swear. 

ngl tho sometime when I was writing this fic I was like omfg this is so ‘2013 wattpad girl’ of me,,, like sometimes I’d write a sentence and try not to think about the cringy werewolf fics I used to read xD either way I really like the concept of the supernatural and wolf chan is always in the back of my brain so this is what followed that brain rot. 

p.s!! did anyone catch the references to dewdrops at dawn? I had to connect the universes somehow xD I hope you guys enjoyed them <3

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 4: The House Of Glass]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, koi fish, smoking, drinking, drugs, kids, parenthood, Willis Warning, impractical architecture, angst, Adventures With Aegon, historical topics including war and discrimination, let's all give a nice warm welcome to Christabel! 🥳

Word Count: 7.4k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @aemonddtargaryen @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! 🥰🧁

It’s dawn, but you’ve already been up for hours. The sky turns from indigo to embers to flames to a cool, cloudless blue; mourning doves coo, goldfinches chirp, swamp rabbits gnaw on blades of grass glittering with dewdrops like diamonds. As the vanilla bean cake bakes in the oven, you go to Cadi’s room, sit on the edge of her bed, lay a hand lightly on the indistinct knoll that is your daughter curled up beneath her Rambo-themed blanket.

You murmur as she stirs awake: “Bonjour, ma cherie.”

Cadi rolls over, blinking groggily. You don’t call her this often. It’s something you picked up from Willis when you were married. You have a vision—sudden, jarring, though not entirely unwelcome—of him pacing back and forth with Cadi in his arms, one month old, 1 a.m., Willis humming some Cajun folk song to lull her to sleep. “Mom? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I called Cascade Stables, there’s a spot reserved for you.”

“What? Really?!” Her face glows, Christmas lights, the Fourth of July. “But you said…how…?”

You can’t take the credit. You won’t give it to Willis if it’s unearned. “Actually, Aemond offered to pay. So you don’t need to worry about anything. The house is fine, the car is fine. No need to sacrifice your birthday presents.”

Cadi sits upright and ponders you, enigmatic childish confusion. “Mom…is Aemond your boyfriend?”

Well, honey, at first he was just some stranger from a kinky personal ad and then he was a delicious distraction and now I fear I might be starting to want more from him, something not so temporary, something forbidden. But I don’t know who he is. “I don’t think it’s quite that serious yet,” you say instead. “Would you like for him to be around more?”

She shrugs, and you recognize it not as true reluctance but rather as feigned, self-preserving indifference. “Yeah. I mean, I guess so. He’s okay.” Then she adds: “What happened to his face?”

“I honestly don’t know. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Maybe he was in a war,” Cadi says, glancing down at her Rambo blanket, Sylvester Stallone armed and stern and shirtless.

“Um, yeah, maybe.”

“Can I have cake for breakfast?”

“No, you cannot,” you say, smiling. “But you can have some of Amir’s leftover jambalaya that’s still in the fridge.”

“Fine.”

“Get up. Get ready. Amir should be here soon, once he can watch the cakes I’ll drive you to school.”

“If you let me stay home, I could help you bake.”

“You definitely wouldn’t help. You’d just spend eight hours playing that Nintendo.”

Cadi grins. “Probably.” Then she rolls out of bed and shuffles towards the kitchen over the creaking, sinking floor.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, what the fuck,” you hiss to yourself as you park behind Willis’ sheriff’s vehicle—a Plymouth Gran Fury—which just so happens to be towing a 20-foot jon boat. You step outside into glaring 90-degree sunshine, slam the door of your Chevy Celebrity, and jog into the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office. You are carrying a white bakery box full of cherry cobbler muffins.

“Hey sugar,” Willis drawls when he sees you. The holding cells are empty; the electric fans are whirring. Heather Locklear is simpering from where her poster is taped to the wall.

You throw the bakery box down onto his paper-strewn desk. “What the hell is that outside?”

“My new boat,” Willis says proudly. “Picked it up first thing this morning.”

“So you can get a new boat, but Cadi can’t go to horse camp?”

He throws his arms wide, exasperated. Men love to make a habit out of being exasperated by things that should be obvious. “She’s gonna get way more outta that boat than from spendin’ a week brushin’ horses! We’ll be fishin’ in it together ‘til she starts poppin’ out her own babies. If Lake Verret ain’t a puddle of oil by then. You know I’ve had three deputies resign in the past ten days? Three! I’m bleeding manpower. I can’t compete. With overtime, they can make twice as much workin’ security on the rigs.”

“I thought you voted for Reagan and his energy independence.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want them drillin’ in my neighborhood.” He flips open the box, grabs a muffin, and takes a huge, messy bite. Crumbs go flying everywhere.

“Well, Cadi is going to get to brush those horses after all,” you tell Willis. “She’ll be gone from June 24th to July 1st. Just so you know.”

His forehead crinkles as he chews. “Where’d you dig up a spare $300?”

He gave me $400, actually. “A friend offered to pay. Kind of embarrassing that they stepped up instead of you.”

Willis ignores this jab. It is uncharacteristically combative of you; but you’re hot, you’re exhausted, you have a splitting headache, you still have four cakes to finish before noon tomorrow. Sweat rolls in beads down the slope of your neck, the curve of your back. It will evaporate once you’re back outside again, once the sun bakes it off you like nightmares fade in daylight. “A friend, huh?” Willis is more fascinated than annoyed. He gnaws on his muffin, contemplating you. “The only friend I know of is Amir the Queer, and he ain’t got nothin’.”

He does; he’s just squirreling it all away for San Franscisco. “Don’t call him that. Don’t be a neanderthal.”

Willis’ thoughts are elsewhere. If not Amir, then who? Who? He asks, smirking: “You got a petit ami, sugar?”

A boyfriend, he means, a beau, a lover, a partner, a suitor. Do I? “No,” you decide. “No, he’s just a regular friend. Really.”

Willis chomps on his cherry cobbler muffin. His smirk stretches into a grin. “Sure he is.”

“Okay. You called and asked for muffins, and the muffins have been delivered. Now I gotta go. I have a hell of an order to finish for tomorrow. Which reminds me…” You take the folded piece of yellow legal pad paper out of your shorts pocket and open it to read the address of the Targaryen residence. “Where is 1066 Loch Raven Terrace? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Oh, that’s in a brand new development, real highfalutin, mansions and all. That’s where the Jade Dragon folks are livin’. You gotta go way down 401 towards Lake Verret. Turn onto Owlet, then Egret, then Loch Raven.”

You snatch a blue pen out of the mug on his desk—World’s Best Cop, it says—to scribble the directions down on your paper. “Great. Thanks. Why’d they name it that? We don’t even have ravens in Louisiana.”

“Maybe they got ‘em back in England and the Rockefellers want to feel right at home.”

You nod. This makes sense; this is a sufficiently egotistical explanation. You check the clock on the wall; it’s almost time to get Cadi from school. “You’re picking up Cadi tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah. ‘Round 8:00, as usual.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

Willis asks longingly, looking nowhere in particular: “Remember when we were gonna go to Mexico for our anniversary?”

“Yeah. And I remember when we didn’t.”

He shrugs, perhaps regretful, mourning some hypothetical versions of yourselves. “I got busy. I got lazy.”

“We would have ended up in the same place, Willis. It just might have taken longer.”

“Sure,” he mutters, but he doesn’t sound like he believes it. He’s reaching for his second muffin as you push through the glass door and step out into the sweltering afternoon sunlight.

Twenty minutes later, you’re rolling into your driveway: windows down, cicadas screeching, a flock of pelicans flapping by overhead, Cadi singing along to Jump by Van Halen. But when you cut the engine, you catch a glimpse of something strange in your rearview mirror. You have a visitor. He’s coasting down the driveway in his red Audi Quattro, displacing a grey wave of gravel. You and Cadi climb out of your Celebrity to greet him.

“Aemond?” you say, hands on your hips, a growing involuntary smile. You weren’t supposed to see him until Saturday night, until your talk about the future, a future you both disavowed before starting to get a taste for it. “What are you doing here?!”

“I only have a minute.” When he emerges from the Quattro, he’s dragging his neon teal duffle bag.

Cadi gasps. “More Nintendo games?!”

Aemond chuckles and shakes his head. “Sorry, not quite.”

Cadi groans dramatically and sprints off into the house, probably to devour an ungodly amount of baked goods.

“Don’t eat the Cap’n Crunch Treats!” you shout after her. “They’re for a customer!”

Aemond strolls over to you, wearing jeans, a white tank top, and his Adidas sneakers. His ever-present Marlboro jacket has been forgotten. His hair is a mess, he’s touching his chin restlessly; he really does look like he’s in a rush. “Hey,” he says softly, returning your smile.

You point to his duffle bag. “So you’re not here to tie me up.”

“Regrettably, no.”

“Cadi was really, really happy this morning to learn that you paid for horse camp.”

“I’m glad. Please don’t mention it again.” Aemond glances to his right and spies the alligator sunbathing a few yards away, a deep swampy green and fast asleep. “Oh, fuck!” He grabs your arm, pulls you to him, walks with you briskly towards the house. “You need to get that thing turned into a purse or shoes or something.”

You laugh. “She won’t go after you. She knows you’re bigger than she is.”

“I’m not going to take your word for it.”

In the living room, Aemond tosses his duffle bag on the couch, unzips it, and lifts out a Nikon F3 digital camera. Amir peeks out of the kitchen, flour and powdered sugar dusting his palms, his forearms, his cheeks. “What the…?”

“I need a white wall,” Aemond says distractedly, peering around. The living room walls are pink, the kitchen is mint green, Cadi’s room is yellow, the bathroom is a pale blue. Cadi watches as he darts around the small house, sitting at the kitchen counter and chomping on a ginger molasses cookie. Then Aemond snaps his fingers, remembering. He turns to you. “Your bedroom has white walls.”

“And of course he knows all about your bedroom,” Amir says.

“Come with me,” Aemond orders you.

“Okay…?”

“Cadi too.”

You and Cadi follow Aemond into the bedroom, Amir trotting close behind to satisfy his curiosity. Aemond shows Cadi where to stand against the wall, in a spot where the lighting is good, no shadows, no cracks in the paint, no paintings or photographs. He raises the Nikon and gazes through the viewfinder with his right eye.

“Alright, here we go…just from the shoulders up…yeah, look at me straight-on, just like that…big smile, one two three!” He takes a picture; you can hear the click. “Beautiful! You’re Cindy Crawford! Naomi Campbell! Linda Evangelista! Let’s go again…”

Cadi giggles as she poses: a few respectable smiles, a few silly faces, a few where Aemond asks her to act serious. Cadi says, with an exaggerated grimace: “Look, I’m Mom when Daddy tries to talk to her.” Amir guffaws from the doorway.

“Your turn,” Aemond tells you, waving you over. Aemond directs you like he’s looking for excuses to touch your shoulders, your waist, your face, making minute adjustments that can’t really matter. You’re good at the serious faces, but he’s not satisfied with your smile. “No, a real one. A real smile!”

“I am really smiling!” you protest.

Aemond lowers the camera and raises an eyebrow at you. “You can do better. I’ve seen it.”

And suddenly, effortlessly, you’re beaming.

“There you go,” Aemond says in approval, and snaps a few frames. “Done.”

“What do you need pictures of us for?”

“Just a little project I’m working on,” Aemond says, evasive. He ventures back to the living room without further explanation.

As Aemond zips the Nikon into his duffle bag, you go to the kitchen to see how far Amir has gotten with the Targaryens’ engagement party order. In a dozen different icing colors, he’s painted wildflowers—your favorite since you were Cadi’s age—all over the white buttercream frosting of the vanilla bean cake. You wrap an arm around his waist, rest your head against his chest. “You’re Picasso.”

“I’m a sad, single, four-eyes twink who lives with his Grandma.”

“You’re the love of my life.”

He laughs and smacks a noisy kiss onto your cheek. Aemond watches, amused, thoughtful. He has that same look he had when he walked in on Cadi and Amir dancing to Kyrie, like someone studying a work of art in a museum, something beautiful but arcane, crafted by a foreign stranger who’s been dead for centuries. You start chopping pecans for the hummingbird cake.

“Okay,” Aemond announces with a heavy sigh. “I gotta run.”

“Already?” Cadi says, more disappointed than she’s trying to let on.

“He’s a very busy man,” you tell her. “He’s an engineer. And a historian, too.”

“Just an engineer,” Aemond says, startled.

“Only a historian would think to quiz me about Napoleon to see if I was worthy of his time.”

“You should know something about the man your town was named after.” Aemond leans in close—smoke and cologne, sun and salt—and growls into your ear: “Bye, Cupcake. Taste you later.”

“Bye.” And you watch him leave with his neon teal duffle bag slung over one shoulder, so preoccupied you completely forget about the pecans. Your knife rests on the cutting board, your thoughts are tangled up in what you and Aemond need to talk about tomorrow. I want more than something casual. I do, I really do.

Amir whips you with a dishtowel. “Ho, we’ve got cakes to bake! Let’s go, let’s go!” And then he asks more sympathetically as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose: “How’s your headache?”

“Oh,” you say, only realizing it when he asked. “It’s gone now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The driveway is long and meandering, brand new but meant to look old, cobblestones lined with meticulously manicured hedges and beasts carved out of marble: bears, dolphins, horses, dragons. On the shores of Lake Verret, out of sight of the rigs and surrounded by towering gnarled southern live oaks older than the United States, you find the Targaryen family residence—manor? estate? chateau?—and park your Chevy Celebrity amidst a sea of Lexuses, Audis, Porsches, Cadillacs, and Alfa Romeos. There are willowy whooping cranes tiptoeing their way across the lawn. A blue merle Great Dane, gigantic and glaring menacingly, lurks behind the white columns of the wraparound front porch.

“That is not a house,” Amir says, gazing up at it through the windshield. “That is a castle.”

“That is where we’re going to make a lot of money if we can impress the Rockefellers.”

“Whoo hoo!” he cheers, climbing out of the car. “San Fran, I hope you’re ready for me!”

You’re dragging the coolers out of the back seat when you are descended upon by a herd of servants, dressed in black so as not to distract from the festivities, so they can fade into the backdrop, so they can become invisible. You and Amir have missed the memo. Your sundress is from Kmart: white with pink zinnias, a cheap and unextraordinary flower for an undistinguished woman from an anonymous town in one of the most impoverished states in the nation. Amir is wearing neon orange shorts and a (very tight) t-shirt from Queen’s Magic Tour that he found at a yard sale.

“These are the cakes?” the head butler asks impatiently, a grim-faced man with salt and pepper hair and spotless white gloves.

“Yeah, that box has the coconut cake, and that one has the key lime, and there are the Cap’n Crunch Treats, and…hey! Wait!” You watch helplessly as the fleet of servants ferry the boxes up the porch steps and into the house. You and Amir stare at each other as you stand abandoned on the cobblestones. “What do we do now?”

“Do we just…leave…?!”

“You made it!” Alicent cries, sailing out of the doorway and swathed in a flowing cream-colored gown. Her large dark eyes are bright and ever-shifting, almost manic; sunlight shimmers on her auburn hair. There is music pouring out behind her, thudding but indistinct, rumbling bass, heady guitar strums. “Come inside. You simply must come in.”

“Oh, we couldn’t impose!” Amir says, already inching towards the house.

“I’ll hear no more of that. You rescued me in my hour of need and I shall not forget it.” Alicent beckons you closer. Her smile is broad and radiant but tight, like she’s having to remember to keep it that way, like her muscles are beginning to ache. “Enjoy some hors d’oeuvres, at least. We have shrimp cocktail, miniature quiches, vol-au-vents, clams casino, Swedish meatballs, little smokies, deviled eggs with paprika, and lots of champagne! Quickly now. There are some people I’d like you to meet.”

Amir glances back at you as you follow him up the porch steps. “People, huh?”

The Great Dane stalks over to you, sniffs, growls deep and low. You freeze, not wanting to provoke it. Its eyes—muddy greenish-brown and swimming with a cunning hostility—remind you of an alligator’s, not the five-footer that idles on your lawn but one of the true monsters of the bayou, old and grizzled and always hungry.

“Vhagar, no!” Alicent scolds, pushing the beast’s massive muzzle away. You imagine it chomping on her hand until it’s gone: one bite, two bites, nothing left but gristle and blood. “No! Bad dog! Go away, go!” The Great Dane reluctantly retreats, glowering from behind a column. “I’m so sorry about that. I’m utterly mortified. She’s terribly unfriendly, but she doesn’t bite. Usually.”

“It’s fine!” you say, heart still racing.

“She belongs to my son. My children…their obsessions confound me. But as mothers, we’re powerless to stop them, aren’t we?”

“I suppose so,” you reply, thinking of Cadi’s wildness, willfulness; though trying to change her would feel wrong.

“Now I certainly owe you a glass of champagne,” Alicent says, billowing like a cloud into the house, her gold heels clicking on the marble floor.

You pass through the doorway and into a vast, crowded foyer, all white and gold: a massive crystalline chandelier, oriental vases and sculptures of men you don’t recognize, paintings on the wall, servants flitting around with trays of hors d’oeuvres. On one table is a tower of champagne glasses, each with a single red cherry marooned inside. Guests mingle in their sport coats and suits and taffeta and sequins, and oddly, none of them are talking about the couple whose engagement is being celebrated. They talk instead about ski trips, polo matches, oil futures, the Soviets, the Saudis, the godawful humidity in this misfortunate corner of the world that they can’t wait to leave. There are stained glass windows everywhere, scenes of suns, stars, sunflowers, dragonflies, lemon trees, sand on beaches. It’s cold, extremely cold, frigid drafts gushing from the air conditioning vents. A Dire Straits song pours not from a Panasonic boombox but from a stereo system with a pair of speakers as tall as you are, Sultans Of Swing. There is a baffling dual chorus clanging around in your skull: Nobody needs this. I’ll never be able to give my daughter anything like this.

Amir whistles as he peers around, eyes wide behind his tortoiseshell glasses. “This place must cost a fortune to cool.”

“I Teleftaia Epithymia.” Alicent struggles with the pronunciation; she speaks slowly, effortfully. “It’s what my husband named the house. What we named the house, I mean. It’s Greek for The Last Desire. As in, no one could possibly want anything more than what this home can offer. Isn’t that poetic? I’ve fallen quite in love with it.” Still, there is that slight nervousness to everything she does, that over-eagerness to please, that restless rushing fidgeting. She wears large gold teardrop earrings that she keeps touching. “We knew we’d have to build something here for the new project on the lake. My son is overseeing it, and he’ll have to spend the next year here, at least. It’s a big step for him. It’s the first drilling operation he’s been given command of. And he—”

“Alicent!” A man comes striding through the crowd. He has shoulder-length pale blonde hair and is wearing a black pinstripe suit, a business suit, authoritative but not joyful. He doesn’t notice you or Amir. You don’t exist to him yet. “Where the hell is the ice sculpture? You said there would be an ice sculpture.”

“It’s on its way, darling. I already called.”

“It should be here now!”

“Viserys, please.” Alicent’s voice is low, embarrassed. “The driver got lost, you know our address is new. They stopped at a payphone and rang us and I straightened it out. They’ll arrive any minute.”

“They better,” the man grumbles. “It’s her family’s crest, for Christ’s sake. We need that ice dragon.”

“This is my husband,” Alicent tells you and Amir, forced smile, pleading eyes, trying to pivot. “Viserys, do you remember the wonderful people I told you about? From Hummingbird Bakery?”

“Bakery?” He seems to have only a vague recollection and even less interest. His gaze is already wandering to other guests. He flashes a grin and waves at a few middle-aged men in grey suits.

“They saved me. They were able to bake us six beautiful cakes with only two days’ notice.”

“And Cap’n Crunch Treats,” Amir adds.

Now Viserys Targaryen does turn his attention to you, and his forehead knits into perturbed wrinkles. His cool blue eyes skate over your Kmart dress, your forearms still dotted with flour and frosting, your cheap pink flats with bows on the front. “It’s a pleasure.” Then he looks to Amir—orange shorts, too-tight shirt that stops at his navel, dogwood flower in his hair—and seems to startle a little. “Alicent, you didn’t mention…uh…he’s…oh well. Too late now. It can’t be helped.”

You and Amir share a glance, polite smiles pasted on your faces. Alicent is abjectly horrified. “Viserys, he’s extremely professional.”

“There are the Lannisters. I must be off.” And the Targaryen family patriarch unceremoniously departs. You and Amir pretend to admire the stained glass windows. Alicent picks at the beds of her fingernails, her rings jangling against each other, her eyes misty.

Criston appears out of nowhere, wearing a white suit with a zebra print shirt underneath. Today his single earring is silver to match. He glides a hand around Alicent’s waist and leans in so close that his nose brushes her fiery hair. “What? What do you need?”

“The ice sculpture people—”

“I’ll wait outside for them,” Criston says, and departs as swiftly as he arrived.

“Please allow me to give you a quick tour of the house,” Alicent says, recovering somewhat. “I’m so grateful for your help. And things keep happening that only make me feel more indebted.” Then she hands each of you a flute of champagne, spins on her heels, and leads you out of the foyer.

Each room is a different color. The living room is red, furniture of lush velvet and Italian leather, bookshelves tall enough to need ladders, a brick fireplace that they’ll never use. Through a pair of French doors you can glimpse a garden and a pool with a water slide. The dining room is a cheerful butter yellow. The kitchen is teal, and like all the rest of the house has stained glass windows to match; these are shaped like a cathedral’s and run all the way up to the ceiling. Servants have arrayed your cakes on the counter, each with a label handwritten in cursive and a set of knives to cut it with. A plate of Cap’n Crunch Treats has been tucked away back by the stove like something they’re a little ashamed of.

Everywhere she goes, Alicent introduces you and Amir to the guests she crosses paths with. “Have you met these heavenly people from Hummingbird Bakery yet? Yes, they’re local, true Louisianans! I see you’ve already helped yourself to a slice of the key lime cake. Isn’t it just fantastic?! And a gorgeous shade of green! It’s so peculiar, you won’t believe what this sweetheart has living in her yard, a real-life alligator…”

You whisper to Amir: “Are we her pet poor people?”

“You might be. I’m proudly undomesticated.”

“Christabel!” Alicent shouts jubilantly as the girl scrolls into the kitchen. “There you are, dear! Come see your cakes.”

Christabel complies, shy but agreeable, peeking out from under a shock of feathery blonde bangs. She wears gleaming diamond earrings and a very bridal white one-shoulder dress, showing quite a bit of skin; you notice that some of the other guests milling about the kitchen cast her judgmental smirks. Christabel asks Alicent, as if she’s afraid of the answer: “He’s not here yet?”

“You know how busy he’s been,” Alicent says, apologetic. You think, remembering the drunk man from the holding cell: Yeah, busy committing misdemeanors. “Those rigs…the S&P 500…anyway, he’ll be home before you know it. In the meantime, let me get you a piece of cake. You’re disappearing, love.”

Christabel skims a palm down the front of her dress self-consciously. “Alright. Just a tiny one.” Then she acknowledges you and Amir. “You must be the masterminds then. Alicent told me all about you.”

Amir says: “About our excellent service and reasonable prices?”

“Yes.” Christabel isn’t skittish like Alicent, but there’s a sort of pensiveness to her, an impression that she is eternally woolgathering. Now she looks at you in particular with a small, warm smile. “And about how beautiful you are.”

Amir laughs at your stunned expression. Me? Beautiful? And the only other person to call you that in years has been Aemond, tangled up with you on your bed in your falling-down house, and you aren’t sure if that counts. “Oh, um, thank you,” you manage. “I really like your dress.”

“Really? I fear people think it’s too…revealing. I liked it fine this morning when I put it on. I didn’t have any notion it might not be suitable. Now I’m feeling like an idiot.”

“No, it’s so nice!” you say, pained for her, one misfit recognizing another. “I never would have thought there was anything wrong with it.”

Alicent gets a plate from the pile on the counter. “What flavor would you like, Christabel?”

“Whatever this one is.” She points to the vanilla bean cake, adorned with Amir’s frosting flowers. “Isn’t it stunning, with all the colors?”

“Amir is the artist,” you say. “I love wildflowers.”

Alicent asks: “Did you have them at your wedding?”

No one bothered. No one remembered. “I wanted to.”

“Wouldn’t that be lovely, Christabel?” Alicent passes her a slice of vanilla bean cake. “Wildflowers? It would be different. Everyone has roses or lilies or something. But wildflowers? I can’t recall ever going to a wedding with wildflowers. Especially if you’re going to get married here. It would fit with the scenery. This place is so exotic, so untamed!”

Christabel nods, taking nibbles of her cake. “Wow, this is delicious! Yes, wildflowers. We could use them for the bouquet, and the corsages…”

“Now we just need a venue.” Alicent sighs. “We’ve had such a terrible time trying to find a good place. Somewhere historic, but not rundown or unsavory. I mean, you can’t get married on an old plantation or something. Bloody hell. How tone-deaf would that be?”

“Very tone-deaf,” Amir concurs.

“There’s a church across the lake in Belle River that you might like,” you say. “The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens. It’s a historic site, I believe. It’s not very big, but it would make for nice pictures.”

“There’s an idea!” Alicent chirps, then she is stricken as a woman walks into the kitchen. Her fair hair is tied up in a messy bun. She wears a white t-shirt stained with dirt, denim overalls, and Converse Chucks. There is a bluish-green chameleon perched on her shoulder, goggling at everyone with its rotating, conical eyes. “Helaena, put your dress on.”

“Dreamfyre doesn’t like the silk. She won’t sit on my shoulder if I’m wearing it.”

“Helaena, it’s a lizard.” Alicent is exasperated. “Go upstairs, stick it back in its cage, and put your dress on, now.”

“Fine,” Helaena mumbles before wandering off.

“Oh, is that the ice sculpture?!” Alicent cries, peeking out into the foyer through the kitchen doorway. “At last! If you’ll excuse me…” She scurries off to attend to it, Christabel trailing her like a shadow.

You put your empty champagne flute in the sink. “I need to go find a bathroom.”

“I need some shrimp cocktail,” Amir replies. “Do you think I should try to explain the evils of gentrification to people?”

You giggle. “Yeah, definitely. Start with Viserys.” You part ways, Amir headed towards the foyer, you journeying down a mysterious hallway that adjoins the kitchen. The walls are flame orange and decorated with portraits of grave blonde people, each with an outlandish name etched into the plaque beneath its likeness: Baelon, Alyssa, Jaehaerys, Alysanne, Aenys, another Alyssa, Aegon, Rhaenys, Visenya. “This family is so fucking weird,” you mutter to yourself as you continue down the hall.

You find a bathroom, but there’s already a hoard of glamorous, ornamented women waiting outside of it. They’re chattering about which is the superior place to take a holiday, the Canary Islands or the south of France. They stare at you like you’re vermin, a nutria or a raccoon. You keep moving.

At the top of a spiral staircase, you find another hallway. The first door you try is a home movie theater complete with a popcorn machine, neon signage, several rows of seating and a plethora of bean bag chairs. Behind the second door is a bedroom, but it’s not unoccupied. You are greeted by the sight of the man who must be the groom. He looks much like he did when he was detained in a holding cell of the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office: slicked-back hair, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, flushed cheeks, tiny shorts, flip flops. He’s hunched over a desk with three lines of white powder on it. There’s an HP computer—something you’ve never seen in person before—in one corner of the room, a television and collection of hundreds of VHS tapes in the other. His walls are black and cluttered with posters of punk rock bands, the Ramones, the Clash, the Misfits, Minor Threat, Social Distortion, Bad Religion. His Akai stereo is blaring Fight For Your Right by the Beastie Boys.

“What?” the man says agitatedly. There’s powder on his fingers and his nose. “What? What? Who are you? What do you want?”

“Um, sorry, I was just…uh…” There’s some kind of rodent running around on his unmade bed. Its fur is a sandy yellow color, its body freakishly long and four legs stumpy. What the fuck. “I was looking for a bathroom.”

He blinks, muddled recollection. “You’re the cake lady.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Delivering cakes.”

“Oh. Right.” He points directly across the hall. “There’s a bathroom.”

“Okay, great, thanks.” He starts snorting another line before you’ve even shut the door.

You spend a minute or two in the Targaryens’ lilac-colored bathroom, paintings of the night sky hung on the walls—comets, moons, stars, galaxies—and amethyst geodes on the sink, a stained glass window with a scene of a lavender field. By the time you navigate back down to the kitchen, the man is there. He’s eating a Cap’n Crunch Treat, cocaine still streaked across his pink face and caught in his wisp of a mustache.

“You did this,” he says. “I know you did. It’s too good to be anyone but you.”

With his hand that’s not holding the Cap’n Crunch Treat, he’s cradling the lean rodent against his bare chest like an infant. “What is that? A weasel?”

“It’s a ferret. His name is Sunfyre.” The man nods to a photograph pinned to the refrigerator with magnets shaped like miniature oil rigs. There are two people in the frame, a woman and a girl, their cheeks squished together as they laugh on a pink sand beach of some topical island you’ll never visit. “That’s my dad’s first wife.”

“He’s divorced?”

“Widowed. She died in a car accident.” He taps on the girl in the picture, perhaps Cadi’s age. “That’s my half-sister Rhaenyra. She’s an Olympic fencer. She lives in the Lake District and fucks our uncle.”

You shake your head. You must have misheard him. “She what?”

“Yeah, I know how it sounds. I’m not kidding. She lives in a castle and fucks our uncle and has kids with him. Fucking sick, man. And I’m the screwup? Because I like coke and strippers? I’m supposed to feel bad about that? Bite me, Viserys.” He grabs a second Cap’n Crunch Treat and gestures for you to follow him into the foyer. “Come on. You need some champagne.”

You chuckle. Mental or not, there’s something likeable about him…though you can’t say you envy Christabel. To be married to someone like this man must be hellish. Now, to be married to someone like Aemond… “I’ve already had a glass.”

“Okay, well I need some champagne, and I don’t want to go out there alone.” His flip flops slap noisily against the marble floor as he plods out of the kitchen. He looks back to see if you’re following, and then you hurry after him. The heir to the Jade Dragon fortune weaves through the crowd, ignoring everyone and being ignored in return. In the packed foyer, he plucks a flute of champagne from the tower and chugs it. He eats the cherry and holds up the stem. “You know how to tie these with your tongue?”

“No, I definitely do not.”

“I do,” he announces proudly. He shoves the stem in his mouth, wiggles it around for a while, accidentally swallows it and has to hack it back up. He spits the cherry stem onto the pristine white floor, attracting a few grimaces. “Wait. Wait. Let me try again.” He reaches for another glass of champagne. The opening notes of Asia’s Heat Of The Moment boom from the speakers.

You give him a sympathetic smile. “Pre-wedding jitters?”

He snorts. “I’m not the one getting married.”

“Wait, you’re not?”

He cackles, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “I already have a wife. Stephanie, she’s a princess from Monaco. Right now she’s in Ibiza or something. I haven’t seen her since New Year’s. This New Year’s? Last New Year’s? I’m not sure. Maybe it was the Grand Prix. I remember a lot of confetti.”

You gape at him. “So who’s getting married?”

“My brother Aemond.”

“Who?!”

He points with his Cap’n Crunch Treat. Across the foyer by the front door, Aemond is grinning and accepting congratulations from a gaggle of men in suits: black, grey, navy, tan. Aemond himself is wearing emerald green, dark and luxurious and striking and expensive, because he’s a Targaryen who’s marrying a noblewoman and he’s an oil tycoon and a millionaire and he is most certainly not single and not looking to change that.

“You fucking liar,” you hiss.

The man with the coke in his mustache peers over at you. “Huh?”

You can’t tear your eyes away from Aemond. You feel scarlet rage soaking into you drip by drip, you feel the blood turning hot beneath your skin. You shouldn’t be this upset over a man you barely know, you don’t understand why you are. Except part of you does, and it’s heartbreaking, and it’s humiliating beyond words. Of course he’s marrying someone like Christabel. Of course he’d never choose me.

Aemond bids farewell to his well-wishers, and as he turns away from them his right eye catches on you. From across the room, his face shifts from disbelief to astonishment to horror. His jaw drops open. The flute of champagne he’d been clasping shatters against the marble floor. Immediately, a flock of servants materialize to clean up the mess. You flee from the foyer to the living room, through the French doors, into the garden. It’s midday and hot as hell, humid, swampy, suffocating to the British aristocrats that fill the house. You don’t see anyone else outside. You run past the swimming pool and through cobblestone trails bordered by blue cardinal flowers, orange coneflowers, coral honeysuckle, resurrection ferns, maypops, white sage, firewheels, magnolias, cinnamon ferns. You stop at the edge of a fish pond larger than your kitchen and glare down into the water, trying not to let tears blur your vision as glimmers of scales—red, orange, black, white, gold—dart beneath the transparent rippling water.

I have to go back inside. I can’t leave without Amir. I can’t leave without formally saying goodbye to Alicent and thanking her for her hospitality and licking the boots of these people so they’ll throw just enough cash at me to keep a roof over my daughter’s head.

You hear hurried footsteps; Aemond appears on the cobblestones. He’s found you, but that’s as far ahead as he’s planned. He holds his hands open, not knowing what to say.

“You told me you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’s your fiancée, that’s worse, don’t you get how that’s worse?!”

“Okay, this looks bad, but it’s not what you think—”

“You’re marrying her, right?” you demand, and he hesitates. “Right?!”

“Yes,” Aemond admits, and it feels like knuckles to your stomach.

“Then you’re a liar and a cheater.”

“It’s not…it’s…” He gestures frantically, not knowing how to explain, how to translate it into words you’ll understand. “There’s not an expectation of fidelity.”

“Does Christabel know that?”

“That’s the thing, that’s what you don’t get, it’s not like that between us. We don’t discuss it, we’re not…” More vague, frenzied gestures. “We’re not…um…” He groans, rubbing his scarred forehead. “We’re not fucking. At all. Nothing close to it. It’s not a physical relationship yet.”

“But she doesn’t know about me.”

“No, God no, of course not.”

“So she thinks you’re…abstinent…?”

He sighs, defeated. “I don’t know. I don’t really care, honestly.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping with her?”

“Because we can’t until we’re married.”

“I’m sorry, are you Pilgrims?! Are you time travelers from the 1400s?!”

“It’s her family’s standards,” Aemond says. “It’s not uncommon for women of her…status.”

“Girl,” you pitch at him. “She’s a girl. How old is she? Eighteen?”

“Nineteen.”

You’re furious that she exists; you’re furious on her behalf. “And she’s planning her fairytale wedding while you collect local women to act out your kinky fantasies with.”

“One woman,” Aemond says softly.

“What?”

“There’s one woman currently. Just you.”

You shake your head, swiping enraged tears from your cheeks. “Why are you marrying her?”

“It’s sort of an…arranged thing.”

You stare at him. “Someone set you up?”

“My father knows her father. They think it’s a good match. Her family needs money, my father wants ties to the nobility. She’s one of probably five people on this planet that he would approve of. And she seems enthusiastic about it, so it’s happening.”

“Aemond, that is an insanely bad idea.”

“I have to do it.”

“You’re marrying her because your dad told you to?!” You explode. “Are you serious?! Everyone with the sole exception of Amir told me to stay with Willis, my friends, my family, my neighbors, my bakery customers, the checkout ladies at the Piggly Wiggly, my goddamn mailman, my father was in the hospital dying of lung cancer saying that his last wish was for me to never get divorced, and I still went through with it because I knew it was the right thing to do and no one was going to stop me!”

“I don’t want to talk about Willis,” Aemond snaps.

“Well, he’s kind of an inescapable aspect of my existence, so if I can get over it I’m sure you can too.”

“I hate that guy,” Aemond seethes, and you have no idea how to respond. You gaze down into the pond and watch scales and fins and tails fly like bullets beneath the surface.

“Those are the biggest goldfish I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“They’re koi,” Aemond scoffs.

“Oh, is that what they teach people about at Imperial College in London? Fancy fucking fish?”

“Don’t be a bitch to me, just…just give me a second, I didn’t think I was going to have this conversation until tonight, this is not how I wanted it to go.”

You say quietly, betrayed: “You’re a robber baron.”

“What? Like Vanderbilt or Rockefeller, that kind of robber baron, that’s who you think I am?!”

“That’s who you are! You hoard and exploit and use and pollute and destroy! I don’t destroy things, I create them!”

“You bake cupcakes!”

“And I don’t hurt anyone by doing it!”

“You are so goddamn delusional, you are completely insane—”

You start counting out crimes on your fingers. “I don’t kill people, I don’t endanger the Earth, I didn’t irrevocably screw up Ketchikan, Alaska—”

“So I’m terrible because I want to bring jobs to your pathetic, dead-end town?! Because I want there to be a few less pregnant teenagers and more high school diplomas? That makes me a war criminal, that puts me right up there with Jaruzelski or Pinochet?!” He realizes what he’s said when he sees the wounded fury unfold on your face. “Oh fuck. Come on, I didn’t mean you.”

“No, you just meant people who are exactly like me in every way.”

“You know what? I take it back,” Aemond says, knife-sharp, wrathful. “I did mean you. Because you are wasting your life here, and you’re too stubborn or too scared or too much of both to recognize an opportunity to have something more. Don’t you think you deserve better? Don’t you think your kid deserves better?”

“I built something here, I made a future for myself and my daughter here, and you’re going to work our people to death and poison the lake and then pack up and leave when it all goes wrong because that’s what oil tycoons do! The opportunity is for you, not us! More mansions, more champagne, more coke, more demented pets!”

“Then leave! Get in your car and drive back to your sad, structurally unsound house and live happily ever after with whatever braindead barbarian you marry next.”

“I will,” you pitch back. “Enjoy being married to your marquess.”

“She’s not a marquess. Her dad is the marquess. She won’t inherit the title until he dies.”

“Enjoy being married to your future marquess, you pretentious prick.”

“Women can’t be marquesses. They can only be marchionesses.”

“Yeah, you’re so smart. I’m really impressed. At least I don’t have to tie people to beds to delude myself into thinking I have some semblance of control over my life.”

You storm through the garden and back into the house as Aemond watches you, violently disappointed. You yank open one of the French doors and slip into the midst of the festivities. Illustrious guests are still mingling, toasting, boasting, scrutinizing you skeptically when they notice you at all. In the archway between the living room and the foyer, Amir joins you, sipping a flute of champagne.

“Hey, ho! Did you get lost? Did you find the cellar where they keep the bodies of their political enemies?” He has eaten so many hors d’oeuvres he’s basically waddling. “You look stressed. How about a nice shrimp cocktail?” He follows your eyeline to where Aemond is trying to sneak covertly into the living room through the French doors. Christabel intercepts him, relieved that he’s finally arrived, beaming, sparkling, entirely unaware of any conflict. Aemond conjures up a smile, fond yet guarded. She doesn’t touch him, and he doesn’t touch her either. He clasps his hands behind his back instead. “Is that…?!”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s…?!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Amir says. “Oh.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his dark eyes wide and shellshocked. “We should have made him buy all of us Nintendos and a week at horse camp.”

“I want to go home.”

“You got it, let me just grab a few more of those Swedish meatballs—”

“Amir,” you say, tears brimming in your eyes. “I really want to go home.”

“Okay, okay.” He slings an arm around your shoulder, smacks a kiss against your temple, walks with you towards the front door. “Then let’s go home.”

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

This...is long, much longer than I thought it would be but oh well. Enjoy Aurora being mean to Swiss. (He likes it.)

"...and that's Swiss."

When she had shaken the grinning ghoul's hand upon being introduced to him, Aurora had no idea how much fun she would have with him.

Because Swiss is tall, cocky, and too used to have the upper hand in his interactions with other ghouls.

Folded in an armchair, Aurora watches Swiss tease Dew until steam is pouring out of the fire ghoul's ear, to the multi's delight. Smug smile on his lips, Swiss cuts Dew's infuriated rambling short with just a few words, making the fire ghoul shake his head in disblief, helplessly charmed despite everything.

Aurora holds eye contact when Swiss glances at her, golden eyes full of mischief and the confidence he will get away with it. There's too much teeth in his grin, a touch unsettling but equal part endearing.

With a spring in his steps, he sets course for Aurora's armchair.

"Got some space for me princess ?"

Groaning, Aurora scoots until he can wiggle his way between her and the armrest ; it's tight, too tight, so Swiss grabs her by the hips and hauls her on his lap with a satisfied little noise. Aurora doesn't protest ; let him think she yielded to his whims like most people do, when in reality she has him exactly where she wants him.

It's easy to get Swiss to lower his guard down - not that he was wise enough to put it especially up in the first place. Aurora's painted claws scratching softly behind his ear is more than enough to have him relaxed an purring, eyes half closed.

That's when she strains to mumble in his ear.

"You were being mean to Dewy."

Swiss' ear flicks, golden rings threaded through it clinking together, and he hums lowly.

"Mmh...just a lil' bit."

Aurora tuts.

"How would you feel if I was being mean to you, uh ?"

Golden eyes slowly blink open as Swiss' small, content smile turns into a wide grin.

"You don't want me to answer this, princess."

Cocky, provocative. Aurora wants to make him cry. She curls her finger under his chin, lifting his head slightly.

"You think you'd like that, uh ? Me being mean ?"

Amusement dances in Swiss' eyes, along something tender that almost breaks Aurora's resolve. Almost.

"I know I would."

With a scoff, the ghoulette let go of his chin.

"You couldn't handle it."

There is no doubt Swiss will rise to the bait. There is a reason he, alongside Dewdrop, is banned from accepting challenges without someone to second guess it. Swiss' hands find their way to Aurora's waist, finding the silver of skin made accessible by her shirt riding up.

"No ? I think I could."

His enthusiasm sure is cute, so Aurora rewards him with a smile as she shifts to straddle one of his thighs. Swiss makes a happy noise, tail curling around one of her leg and chin coming to rest on her chest. The way he looks up at her catches Aurora off guard, though she takes care not to show it. She always forget that glint of reverence that never fails to show in the multi ghoul's eyes whenever he's looking at one of his packmates.

It's more than flattering, and for a moment, Aurora thinks about changing her plans-

"Plus, I don't think you can be mean to me, sweetheart. You'd feel too bad for me."

Nevermind, that motherfucker needs to be taken down a few pegs. Aurora harshly presses her thigh against Swiss' crotch, taking him by surprise and making him gasp, hands flexing around her waist before sliding down to her hips.

"Oh, trust me Swiss, I would take great pleasure in being merciless to you."

Swiss' tongue darts out to wet his lips, adam apple bobbing under the delicate skin of his throat as he swallows thickly.

"Do it. Won't you be mean to me, 'Rora ?"

It's not getting Swiss to drop that's hard. Aurora knows damn well how flexible the ghoul is ; it clearly isn't the first time he's subbing, not by a mile.

No, what will be a challenge will be to peel away Swiss' pride layer by layer. Because Swiss doesn't beg, or very rarely, doesn't really need to anyway most of the time. He has a tendency to get people to give him what he wants even when he's not supposed to be in control.

"If you ask nicely," Aurora whispers, claws running idly on Swiss' forearms. They are very nice, and she makes a mental note to explore that later.

Swiss cocks his head to the side, mouth pulling up in a smirk as he bats his eyelashes at Aurora.

"Please ?"

It's nowhere near pleading, leading toward provocative, but it's a start.

"Carry me to my room," Aurora decides.

"Bossy," Swiss comments even as he hauls her up until she can wrap her legs around his waist. As they pass the kitchen, they attract the attention of the four ghouls chatting there, which Swiss answers to with a grin almost too large for his face.

"Gentlemen," he nods at Dew and Mountain who look like they're trying to decipher whether they should interject or not, before swiftly balancing Aurora on one arm to grab Cumulus' hand, dropping a kiss to the back of it and doing the same for Cirrus.

"Ladies."

Cumulus shakes her head with a fond huff, while Cirrus glances at Aurora and mouthes "Wreck him".

Well that's just further motivation.

It takes more brainpower than Aurora expected not to let herself be distracted by Swiss effortlessly carrying her like that, but she pulls herself together just in time. The second he slams her bedroom's door shut behind them and sets her down, she takes a step back. Her features schooled in an unimpressed scowl, she sighs.

"You're a cocky bastard, you know that ?"

She only gets an impossibly wide grin for her troubles.

"I know. You love it."

It's easy to slip a hand to the back of Swiss' neck and tug him down into a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth. His back hits the door with a dull thump as Aurora let her hands wander just to hear Swiss' breath hitch. There is nothing more delightful than the choked sound the multi ghoul makes when she wedges her thigh between his, encouraging him to grind down on it.

Aurora licks into Swiss' mouth with abandon, feeling him sigh contentedly, drunk on her tongue. She waits for him to start losing control of the noises escaping him, for his rolls of hips to become uncoordinated and desperate, for his muscles to start tensing. When he reaches that point, she pulls away, putting three steps between them.

Swiss has to grab the door handle for balance, leaning at least half of his weight on the door, knees too weak to keep him upright. He doesn't whine, not quite, but it's a near thing, his long fangs catching on already abused lips. He's truly a sight like this, disheveled and breathing heavily. But he's still fucking smirking.

"Come on," he groans.

Aurora nonchalently crosses her arms.

"Come on what, Swiss ?"

He has the decence not to roll his eyes, but does let out a petulant huff, smile still pulling at his lips.

"Keep going ?"

It's phrased like a question, despite the glint in Swiss' eyes that tells Aurora he is so sure of the outcome, of her answer. She draws it out by humming as if in thoughts.

"Keep going ? You want me to keep making out with you ? To let you hump my thigh again ? You want me to touch you ? To stroke you real nice ? That what you want, uh ?"

Swiss' hips cant up slightly at the picture she's painting for him.

"Yes. Will you ?"

There's a touch of amusement in his voice, something Aurora guesses comes from his belief that he knows what game they're playing. Oh, she cannot wait to crush that mix of hope and certainty she reads in his eyes.

Just because she can and will be extra cruel, she stalks closer, hooking a finger in Swiss' belt buckle and tugging him closer, until he's forced to stand on his own.

"Mmh, no."

The sheer disblief and bewilderment washing over Swiss' features is so, so worth it.

"What ?"

Gone is the attitude, smirk wiped clean from the multi ghoul's face as well.

"I said no. What, did you think I would ? This isn't about you. Now kneel."

Swiss is so stunned his knees are already half bent by the time he second guesses himself. It only takes a light push to his shoulders for him to go all the way down.

He's very unfairly pretty like this, gazing up at Aurora with still surprise-wide eyes and blown out pupils. She plants a booted foot on his thigh, pleased to feel him wrap his hand around her calf, a mirror of their stage antics.

"Listen to me very carefully, yeah ? You are going to eat me out, and you are going to do it well. And don't even think about touching yourself or I swear I'll make sure you won't cum for weeks. Understood ?"

All Swiss manages is a nod, and, well, that just won't do.

"Words, Swiss, or are you too dumb for that already ?"

"No- I mean yes- understood, yeah."

Admittedly a bit drunk on the power she holds over him, Aurora rewards Swiss with a heavy, borderline painful press of the sole of her boot against his groin, withdrawing her foot before it can become truly pleasurable. Swiss' eyes roll back, hips involuntarily snapping up.

With a condescending laugh, Aurora goes to lay on the bed, leg spread.

"Well ? Come here. No. I said "come here", not "get up", right ?"

Swiss freezes where he was starting to rise, hesitating only for a second before crawling toward Aurora, even politely stopping at the foot of the bed, only hauling himself up on it and between her legs once she patted the mattress invitingly.

"Get me out of my clothes. Be careful, I like them," Aurora orders. There is no way she's letting this heathen rip her favorite top in half, as attractive a display of strenght it is. Thankfully, Swiss follows her comand, discarding her clothes with great care despite his painfully evident impatience.

Once Aurora lays bare under him, Swiss' eyes flick up to her again, waiting for further instructions.

She takes her sweet time, brushing a hand down his chest, stomach, toying with the hem of his shirt.

"Take this off and get to work."

And Swiss does, all fight gone from him. His shirt goes to join Aurora's clothes, Swiss throws her legs on his shoulders and dives in like a beast starved.

Aurora keens immediately. Swiss is good at this, more than good. Running his unaturally long tongue through her folds and fucking it in and out of her, wrapping his lips around her throbbing clit, he does not spare his efforts.

There is no way in hell Aurora could stop herself from reacting, nor would she want to, squirming and moaning freely, mumbling little "that's good" and "yeah like that" as encouragement.

Because that's the thing with Swiss. Hearing his partners respond like this, knowing he's the reason they're writhing under him ? Oh that turns him on so, so much. Aurora can't imagine how much self control it must take him not to lower himself down and rub is probably aching cock against the mattress.

Good.

Swiss doesn't hold back, and neither does she. If she's being honest, Aurora's been keyed up since he asked her to be mean, and it shows with how fast she starts unravelling.

A clever swipe of tongue, and she's done for, crying out as she comes hard enough to see stars.

When Aurora comes back to herself, Swiss is hovering over her, face shiny with her slick but eyes soft. He sets her legs down gently, massaging her hip wordlessly. With a huff, Aurora pulls him down and tucks him against her side, kissing his face while mumbling.

"Good boy, such a good boy, you did so good baby."

Swiss relaxes, only for a second though, because then Aurora cups his still hard cock and squeezes, earning a loud moan.

"That must hurt."

"Yeah," Swiss breathes.

Aurora chuckles, glancing at the drawer she keeps her strap in.

She's not done being mean.

After all, Swiss hasn't begged yet.

[iamthecomet]

gamer rain sitting on a dildo that's attached to his chair. or with a vibrator that goes off every time he dies. or cockwarming someone as he plays. aaaand send 😇😇😇😇

UH HUH. All of this ALL OF IT. But also, if you will, Imagine this: Rain in his chair, headset on. Controller in hand. Vibrating plug in. Dew, laying behind him on Rain's bed. Real casual. Eating chips and sour gummy worms. Fucking around on his own phone, pretending to be paying less attention than he is. But really, he's got one eye on Rain's screen.

Waiting.

Switching over to the remote for the vibrating plug as soon as things start to get hairy in the game. Watching Rain's shoulders tense. Seeing him lean forward, lip caught between his teeth. Swearing under his breath. Engross, fully.

When the screen goes dark, Dew gives him a second. A breath. A moment for the adrenaline to start to retreat.

And then Dew hits the button. Turns it as high up as it will go. And Rain wails.

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛ🍬ʙᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ ᴠ

Dewdrop ghoul x gn!Reader smut

Content warnings: Dom, sub, degradation. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

NSFW Below the cut.

Dewdrop was in a state tonight to have you submit to him. Your hands were tied together at the wrist and he trapped them above your head as you stood against the wall. His other hand was busy playing with your sex. 

And he was making you scream louder than his guitar. At least… you would if you could.

“Mgfh -” Your cries were muffled as you fought your impending release, but his hand wouldn’t let up. You came too quickly, your mind shattering, and your body tensing.

“What’s that? You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full.” He reached up, flicking your cheek.

The saliva from your mouth coated the ball gag, dripping down your chin and onto your chest. You were a complete mess. 

“Such a good fucking slut.” His predatory gaze narrowed. “Get on your knees.” 

You did as you were told. He unfastened the gag and removed it. Your jaw relaxed slightly, and your tongue hung out between your patted lips, eager to taste him as he stood before you. 

You always liked being bound and gagged by Dewdrop. The tears streaming down your face as he throat-fucked you were proud badges of honor. The fire ghoul’s perfect submissive plaything.

[multi-fandom-of-madness]

Ghoul Masterlist

Ao3 Link

List of Masterlists

Any smut will have a star (*) next to it!!!

Ghoul X Ghoul

Only When It Counts* - Swiss X Aether

Wants and Needs* - Phantom X Mountain

Don't Wanna Talk About It* - Omega X Ifrit

Rained Out - Rain X Mountain

Adoration* - Swiss X Aurora

Like You Love Me* - Aether X Rain

Guiding Hands - Swiss X Dewdrop

Magic Hands* - Sunshine X Cumulus

Caught* - Rain X Dewdrop X Mountain

Steam - Rain X Dewdrop

Excuses, Excuses (Part 1)* - Phantom X Dewdrop X Mountain

Excuses, Excuses (Part 2)* - Phantom X Dewdrop X Mountain X Swiss

Tense* - Aether X Omega

Early Mornings - Mountain X Swiss

Ghoul X Reader

Sour Day - Mountain X Reader

Safe With The Enemy - Phantom X Angel!Reader

Essential Oil - Mountain X Reader

Leech - Ifrit X Reader

Step On Your Toes - Mountain X Reader X Swiss

Headcanons

Ghouls X Fallen Angel Reader

Sub!Omega X Dom-Ghoulette!Reader

[sovaghoul]

Idk I just started typing. More Unholy Trinity (Æther/Rain/trans (ftm) Dew) below. CW pregnancy

Rain drew lazy patterns in the hair on Æther's chest as the tour bus bumped along the freeway. It was a question the Water Ghoul asked several times a day, even in the middle of the night, as it was now. It seemed the afterglow of lovemaking made him miss Dew more strongly. Æther felt much the same.

"what do you think he's doing now?"

"Hopefully resting. Pregnancy isn't easy, so much energy needed for growing a whole new life." He absent-mindedly played with Rain's silky curls, until Rain shifted to look at him.

"can we call him? please Æther? do you think he'd be mad?" Rain's brown eyes pleaded, and while Æther found Dew's bright blue melted his knees without fail, his sub's sub was nonetheless persuasive.

"I wonder which of us he'd be more likely to answer," Æther mused.

"you, i'd think. if it were me, he might think something was really wrong. but you're his Dom. i think that means he'd be inclined to obey without thinking. that's what i'd feel."

Æther nodded, mulling it over before fishing his phone out of the compartment on the wall of the bunk. It surprised Æther when Dew picked up halfway through the second ring.

"Figured you'd be asleep by now." Dew's whispered pants sounded almost embarrassed.

Æther paused a beat before responding. "Same to you love. Are you alright?"

"Mhm, yeah, m'fine. Just um. Just miss you both. A lot. And these fucking pregnancy hormones..." Dew cleared his throat, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a soft moan.

Æther broke out in a knowing smile as his Quintempathy fed him even over the long distance. "We just...'missed' you too. But knowing us, I'm betting we have more if you need help. Don't we Rainy?"

Rain looked up and saw the smile, and returned it. He nodded eagerly.

"Your sub agrees, Dewdrop. How can we pleasure you?"

[black-moon-bunny]

The first signals.

Sister y/n tries to compose herself after her "experience" with the ghouls, but her mind doesn't let her at ease, a strange dream haunts her. Cirrus gets worried after picking some signs from the sister and goes to talk with Papa Secondo. Swiss decided to take care of Sister y/n and took matters on his own hands.

Chapter one. Chapter two. Chapter three. Chapter Four.

Pairing: Swiss x F!Reader, Dewdrop x F!Reader. Mentions of Aether x Dewdrop, Mountain x Rain.

Warnings: A lot of plot. Mentions of death and rebirth. Mentions and a slight scene with Lucifer himself (yeah the big boss is involved in this ) Smut. Knotting , some Dom and Sub dynamics. Reader is knoted by Swiss. Omegaverse terminology (rut , knot, scent, marking etc ) +18, NSFW , Minors DNI.

All the pictures were taken from the internet/Pinterest so credits to their respective creators, I just edited them.

A.N: Hey! Sorry for being away again, I'm struggling a bit with some things but nothing serious. Here's the fourth chapter of this story. I wanted to give special thanks to @hauntedboobees who helped me getting out of the writers block and had been an amazing company this last week. This is for you sweetheart! 💕 And for all the people that supports this fanfic ✨ Thank you so much for reading ✨

She woke up somewhere close to the Church headquarters, Swiss still dozed on her shoulder and she could hear Dew’s voice from the front of the bus. She didn't even remember getting fully dressed but she was with her dress and stockings. She let out a small whimper trying to move. Her body felt sore and a bit sticky.

— Sister? Are you up? — The soft voice of the ghoulette was soothing in her ears as she felt the last waves of sleep get off of her body — ...We have like ten minutes left to arrive...— Cirrus handed her a bottle of water — Sorry if I step a bit further but I dressed you up while you were sleeping... The shirt that Swiss gave you stinks...

As Cirrus seated close to her, she tried to look to the front of the bus: Mountain and Rain were having an UNO match with Cumulus and Sunshine, Aether was snoring in the middle.

— Don't worry... I'm pretty sure that everyone knew and listened to what happened...— She blushed, taking a sip from the bottle — I'm so sorry for... all of this...

— Oh, don't be. Nothing to be ashamed of, really... Especially with that marvelous body of yours, sister. I'm a bit jealous of Swiss and Dewdrop...— She smiled looking up and down her body with a smirk — If you ever get bored of them, Sunshine and I would be more than happy to welcome you in our bed...

— Oh Cirrus... Stop... I'm red again! —She laughed, Swiss tugged her closer to him.

— Fuck off Cloudy, she is mine... and maybe Dew’s ...— He opened his eyes slowly and kissed her cheek — Did you rest some, y/n?...

— I'm not yours, Swiss...— She laughed and gave him a peck on the lips— And don't be mean with Cirrus.

— Thank you for defending me, y/n. Did you hear that? She is free... Maybe you could be from all of us!

— You guys are nuts...— She laughed again and saw Dewdrop looking from the front of the bus at her, he had a worried expression that she couldn't understand. — But maybe I could think about it....

—Mnn... mine ...— Swiss hugged her tighter to his chest — But maybe... you could think about it...

Dew walked towards her and kissed her forehead, he indeed was worried. How could it be? How she could become a Ghoul like them... She was so young and full of life... He worried about how she was going to adapt to the changes...

— Are you okay, Dew? You look worried...

— Oh... No, Sweets, I'm just tired...— He brushed a strand of hair between her ear and smiled at her as if nothing was bothering him. — So... you are going to stay with us tonight?— He sat next to Cirrus and laid on her legs as she brushed his hair with her fingers.

— Yes... If that's okay with you all...

— It is, you can come everytime you want to our den...— Cirrus kept brushing Dew's hair— And if you want, you can sleep with us...— She winked and laughed a bit at her reaction.

— Oh no, today she is going to sleep with me and Swiss... Right, Sweets…?

— Yes Dew...— The bus stopped suddenly with a loud sound. The driver came out fuming. — What's going on?

— We got a flat tire...— Mountain replied looking through the window. They were close to the abbey but not enough to walk their way to the church. Especially the ghouls; they could easily walk their way to the church, but this late at night their human glare fades a lot easier, her nocturnal primal instincts are stronger. The earth ghoul turned around to look at them, to look at her.— Did you sleep well, Sister? If you need something more comfortable, Rain is super soft to sleep on... and we can cuddle you without suffocating you like those two...— He smiled at Dew’s annoyed expression.

— Yeah but you like when I suffocate you so don't be so cocky, Mounty ...— Dew replied and the ghoul turned red. Rain just laughed his ass off. Aether woke up grumpy and went down the bus to help change the tire, but came back even more grumpy.

— We don't have the spare... Someone took it off last ritual to go down a hill...— He looked at Rain and Dewdrop— You two really forgot to put it back!? Ah... I'm going to call Papa and sort this out... Oh, sorry Sister y/n, we are going to take a bit longer...

— Don't worry, big guy... Do you want me to help with anything?

— I could think about a couple of things but...— He licked his fangs in an almost seductive manner — Swiss will kill me if I take you away tonight...

— Oh, come on... You are all going to hit on me?

— Yes...— All of them replied at the same time. She got red, bursting out laughing. It was nonsense. Two days ago she didn't even knew them and now they were all trying to get in her panties? Unbelievable...

— You pervs...— She got up slowly and walked towards Aether grabbing his tie — Let's go big boy, call our Papa and I will help you to change the tire...

— At your orders, Sister...— He smiled, letting himself be dragged outside the bus. Cirrus looked at Swiss and Dewdrop. It was her chance to talk with them now that she was outside. She moved Dew from her lap and looked at them with a serious and concerned expression but keeping her strong character, the softness and elegance of the air bloodline.

— I need to talk with you about something important... It's about y/n actually...— She saw the confused expression of Swiss, but couldn't point out the feeling that Dewdrop eyes expressed.

—What is it? That she is going to become a ghoul like us? No... like Rain, a reborn...— Dew replied a bit harshly.

— Who told you…? You were listening…?

— Wait, what!? She…!?— Swiss looked in disbelief. It couldn't be... but that could explain a lot actually.

— Yes Swiss... It's a long story, can you two hear me out…?—She explained all to them and looked right at Dew — You cannot tell her, that's our boss job... Promise me that, Dew...

—Why? She has the right to know, it's her life that we are talking about! What about that? What about the fact that she is going to die to be reborn?! —The tip of his horns turned a bit red and a soft red glow creeped in his eyes.

— Lower your fucking voice, Dewdrop...— Her eyes turned completely icy blue. She took a deep breath and returned to her relaxed expression.— ... It is but you know what the shock could do to her? She will probably leave the church, she could hurt herself; she could do a lot of messed up things or never speak to us again. We are going to scare her with the truth if we just go and say that to her... Papa is going to talk with her about it. They have been friends for a long time, he is the best to do this for now... And after all... He is Papa now.

— ...She will hate us if... if she doesn't want to be one of us and her destiny obliges her...— Swiss mumbled a bit worried. He had just found her, he didn't want to lose her so soon.

— We are going to do anything that we can to ensure that she has a decent and safe transition... I promise, but please, none of you can say the truth to her for now...

— So when she burned her hand....—Dew replied — The door was...

— Marking her. The changes are supposed to start in a few months... Copia intends to talk with her about it soon. We have a week starting from next week and he wants to reveal it to her by that time... Can you wait for the week, Dew, please...

— I will do my best... But if she doesn't know by the end of this month, I'm going to tell her. You are all warned.

The door opened again and she went up with Aether, a bit blushed and breathy. She helped him to move the big tire away as he lifted the bus, and she got tired quickly; her body was still wasted from the encounter with Swiss and Dew.

—Well, Copia should be here in a couple of minutes. And you two should take care of her, she almost faints helping me...— He laughed and walked her to the seat near Swiss and Dewdrop.

— I'm... tired...—She laughed a bit, feeling her legs tingle a bit for exhaustion.

After some time, they heard the motor of Copia's vehicle. They all went down to help change the tire. She walked towards him to greet him again.

— Ah Sister, you are awake. How do you feel…?

— How did you know…?—She blushed a bit.

—I came to talk with the ghouls before leaving and I saw you sleeping with Swiss and Dewdrop...— He smiled looking at her glowing face — You seemed so relaxed and at ease that I couldn't wake you up...

— Oh, Papa...— She laughed looking at his hands, she never had seen him without the gloves. His hands were roughed up and dirty. — You went looking for the tire yourself?

— Oh yeah... It was at the little house in the garden... And I didn't want to bother the sisters who are up at this hour...

— Our always handy and sweet Cardinal... Pardón, Papa, our Papa....

— I'm still the same bella, Copia for you. It doesn't matter... not when we are alone or with the ghouls. But thank you for the respect...

— You are going to be a great Papa... I'm glad that we can still be friends… Copia.— She looked at the ghouls playing with the pinch tire and they both laughed. She felt so at ease... Besides the copious amounts of dopamine rushing through her bloodstream, the whole situation felt dreamy.

— You believe that?... I'm still having some doubts, Cara… It's… How is the word... Huh... I have to fill great shoes...

—It’s big shoes...— They both laughed a bit of the tension off.— Why? You are a great man, you have passion in your blood, your speeches are amazing and moving; your presence on the stage for Devil's sake... Why fill some other shoes…? Why not create your own...?

—... I'm glad that you believe in me with such fervor but I'm still worried about some aspects of the role... Being in charge is complicated, you have to be there for the congregation, si? You need to step up in conversations and give your opinion... And the old man still behaves somewhat... hostile?... I don't want to let anyone down...

— You will not... You could never let me down at least.

He felt how his muscles tensed listening to that. If she only knew all of the things that were said and thought about her in the last year... He felt guilty. She trusted him and still, he could not tell her the truth... At least not for now, but how could he find the perfect moment? How to say in a smooth way that she was going to die and be reborn in a ghoul during a stupid clergy ceremony? How could he say to her that she has been chosen to be a new ghoul under his papacy...?

— Hey, are you okay... Copia?— She watched as the expression in his face became more somber.

— Y/n, I... I want you to know that no matter what happens in the future, you can always reach for me and I will be there for you...

—... Why the sudden statement? Are you okay? I mean, I know that this is a special moment but you seem sad... It's not time to be sad, Papa. You need to celebrate your new "job" — She looked him right in the eyes with a subtle caring expression—... And I know, you are pretty much my best friend, I will always reach for you… Now cheer up!

— Hey! Papa! Sister, we are ready! Papa, are you coming to the den later? We want to celebrate...—Aether walked towards them. He saw how Copia was a bit tense, he also wanted to help.

— Oh no, I'm an old man and eh... I have to make sure that… the little guys are in bed and fed... Have fun but I want you tomorrow at eight for morning mass.

— Yes papa...

— And you, Sister... Take care and have a good night...— He kissed her forehead and felt a strong scent, she smelled like a pomegranate... That was new.— And rest, please... Don't let them keep you up all night.

After saying the proper goodnights, everyone went back to the bus and back on the road. As soon as they were on the church grounds, she felt a strange feeling of being watched from above. She looked to the left tower and saw the bright white eyes. She could feel shivers. That was not Terzo, not Primo... Secondo was watching her, a part of her felt that she was already in problems for this but she never expected that the problems were going to come from Papa Secondo. She tried to look down and keep walking, her body still felt a bit sore from the rough treatment, but she couldn't complain about anything, she wanted all of it. As she approached the hide entrance to the ghouls den, something inside her stirred; there was this pressure in the back of her head that was becoming a little bit annoying and she felt a bit lightheaded, dizzy even.

She could hear the ghouls making jokes about how Copia seemed so confident on stage but then he couldn't even ask for a coffee without stuttering some words while walking to the den. Swiss approached her from behind and hugged her tightly against his chest.

— Mnn... I'm hungry, Sweets... Is it okay if I eat you as soon as we get to the den…? — He buried his face in the crock of her neck but her scent was off, she smelled a bit more acidic but not sweet. — Are you okay…?

— Swiss... —She felt the red crippling to her cheeks — I'm okay but I'm hungry in the "I want to eat food" way... Can we eat something first?— She felt a low pitch in her ears, her vision was somewhat blurry. She just blamed it on her hunger and exhaustion.

— Don't worry about it. Mountain left dinner ready for us before we left... Are you really okay…? Y/n?

— I'm... a bit dizzy. Maybe it's because I'm hungry or something like that...— As they made their way closer to the main gate to the den, the dizziness got stronger. Swiss looked at her worried; she was turning pale as they got near the entrance, even her lips seemed purple. When they were almost inside the den, he saw how her body collapsed. He took her in his arms and alerted the rest of the ghouls who came worried to help her. They let her rest on the couch. Her skin seemed almost transparent.

— This... Could this be related to the ritual? ...I mean, the ghoul turning thing...

— Could be. Secondo told us that we still had some time but... her body is already failing— Mountain replied. His always calm demeanor seemed off, he was worried. If they didn't have that much time... How were they going to deal with it? How will she deal with it…?

— ...It's not our fault, isn't it?— Dewdrop sat next to her and got closer to his chest. Her heart was still beating, she was breathing slowly. But her skin didn't have any color...

—...Maybe we just speed the process...— Cirrus intervened. She looked at Mountain and told him to heat the food and prepare some hot beverage for her. — I will talk to Copia. Maybe we could find something in the books about the process and how much time she has...

—I’m going to take her to my room... Dewdrop, can you stay with her? She needs something warm.

—I’m on it— They left her slowly on Swiss’ bed and Dewdrop laid down next to her, hugging her carefully, heating her body with his own heat. Swiss looked at them with mixed feelings. He was excited to have a new member in the den but he never saw the process of a reborn. When they met Rain, he had already been converted years ago so they never saw directly to the process. And he was worried that she would hate them after knowing the truth and their involvement in the process.

As the body heat that radiated from Dewdrop slowly brought back her color, her consciousness was still gone. She felt trapped inside of a dream.

In her dream she was standing in front of a mirror, but the reflection seemed off. She was dressed completely in black and even had a black veil over her face. She tried to lift the veil but something stopped her. Then a deep voice began to talk to her.

— Are you sure that you want to see under the veil? Are you afraid of the truth?

— Who are you? ...Why am I here?

— I'm the one you worship... The one that put you in this path, Sister.

—...You are our Dark Lord? Show yourself! I... I want to see you...

— I don't think you want to, sweet Sister... I don't think that you could even phantom my sight in your brain, you could pass away just by looking at me... Do you know why I'm here?

—…I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know about you either...

— You are here because your soul is looking for the truth... If you are brave enough, lift your veil...

— Why did you bring me here, Dark one…

— Because soon enough you will be mine. Under my wing you will become even more than what you already are... Go on, Sister, lift that veil... Discover your truth...

She was nervous. The whole room was pitch dark besides the mirror in front of her. She saw the pair of glowing red and orange eyes turning blue and then red again like they were flicking as they watched her getting closer to the mirror. She didn't dare to look too close to the creature that was watching her, but she wanted to know what was under her veil and why she couldn't see herself clearly in the reflection of the mirror.

As she was about to lift the veil she saw her hands; they were slimmer and the tip of her fingers were black with burgundy nails that looked a lot like claws. She stopped for a moment as she took a deep breath. She lifted the veil and saw her face, the grayish tone that faded into burgundy right on her temples. Beneath the burgundy curved horns, her lips were black and she had fangs... She knew it was her reflection but she couldn't match the look in the mirror with her own body. That was the body of a ghoul. She let out a scream when she realized that it was her in a ghoul form...

— What does this mean?...Why do I look like that?!

— You will soon know your truth... Now go, they are waiting for you...

She wanted to ask more questions but she felt like a fire blaze pushing her away from the mirror and the eyes that scorched her soul.

She woke up feeling suffocated; she was gasping for air and felt a scream trapped in her throat. She was agitated and disoriented, her eyes were looking for something in the dark to hold on and felt warm tears fell down her face and she didn't even understand why she was crying. Dewdrop woke up from his nap beside her and tried to calm her down.

— Sister... Sister, calm down, it's me. It's me, Dewdrop… Hey...

—...Dewdrop, I... I just had a nightmare... I'm... I'm so sorry...

— It's okay, don't worry. You are here in Swiss’ room. You blacked out from exhaustion and uh… I dozed off, maybe you had a nightmare because I was too hot near you... Did I burn you?

—No, no...— She looked at her hands, she still felt the claws at the tip of her fingers.—... Dew, do you think that... nightmares can bring visions?

— Huh? Why? What did you dream of?

— It's nothing serious, just... I heard the voice of Satan in my dreams and I can swear that I saw his eyes...

— ...You dreamed with our boss? I mean, the boss of bosses... Damn, that's cool... I don't even remember how he looked like...

— He is like... your dad? I mean, the father of the ghouls or something?

— Eh... well, no, that would make us all related and... Iugh...—They both laughed as she relaxed with the conversation. Dew’s hands were comforting her sore muscles with soft strokes. They felt warm and cozy up and down her back and shoulders as she let herself rest with her back against the chest of the ghoul. — We are not directly related to him... Well, to them. There's more than one boss for us, he just stands higher... To not make this so long, basically we are born from demons, we have a "family" but most of the time we are on our own, and then you have the reborn ghouls, humans that... well, become ghouls after a special ritual but… it’s not that common.

— So you are not related to each other… And how did you ended up here?

— Well, we were summoned here a long time ago except Swiss, Rain and Sunshine. Swiss just came here because his brother gave his position to him… And no, Sweets, we are not related. We are ghouls, not monsters. We do not fuck with our family.

— Swiss has a brother? —She turned around to look at him, she was a bit surprised —

— Yeah but they don't get along too well... Omega is much of an asshole and he is always around Terzo so we never see him that much. Rain was brought by Mist, one of the ghoulettes from Terzo's era and Sunshine was brought here because Ifrit, her older brother, recommended her... Do you feel better?

— I do... Woah, there's a lot that I need to know about you guys...—She joked pinching Dew's cheek — I'm hungry...

Dew was trying his hardest. He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be ok and that they were going to help her, but Cirrus’ words hammered in his head. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away from them and he knew that Swiss would never forgive him if he did anything that could hurt her. He could understand why; she was magnetic to them, she was full of energy, she was caring and weird like them. She was going to fit so well with them as a ghoul... But he was scared that she would hate her life, losing everything that she already knew to change into an eternal life as a ghoul.

— Oh yeah, let me tell Swiss you are up, ok?

—Thanks....—She still felt a bit nervous, her dream felt too real. She could feel in her head where the horns were supposed to be.

She still felt the scorching stare in her soul. Was it a premonition? Was it a foreshadowing of something that was going to come?

As she tried to compose herself and stand up from bed, Swiss went into the room. Before she could even talk to him, he was lifting her in his arms.

— Don’t you dare, you need to rest. I think that we, eh... Well, maybe we overdid it… I sometimes forget that you are human, you know?

— Swiss, I can walk, you are exaggerating! And tomorrow I have to work so you can not baby me around...

—Who said so?—He nuzzled her hair as he carried to the living room. Aether was sleeping on the couch while Rain and Mountain were cuddling on the floor watching a movie. Dew was heating her some food. Cirrus was nowhere to be found and Sunshine and Cumulus were already sleeping.

— I say so! Come on, let me sit at least...— She felt more at ease with everyone there. She felt protected around them. As Swiss let her down in the seat, Dew puts her a plate of mashed potatoes with herbs and a steak.— Oh Mountain, this looks delicious... Thank you.

— You are welcome, Sister… If you excuse me, Rain it's already falling asleep. Have a good night, and you two, let her rest.— He took the water ghoul in his arms and left for their room.

— Do you feel better? — Dew turned off the TV and moved Aether to wake him up; the quintessence ghoul just grabbed him and hugged him against his chest. — Aeth, come on you big asshole, let go, you are crushing me...

— Mnhg... Firework, be quiet, I'm sleepy... and cold, let me… just...— He snored again. Dew just gave up and turned around letting the big ghoul spoon him.

— I feel better, don't worry...—She and Swiss laughed at Dew and Aether. As they mingled in the living room, Cirrus was in Secondo's chamber talking with him.

She was concerned about the future changes that the sister could face and if their interaction with her could speed the process or affect it in some way.

—I’m so sorry Papa for bothering you this late, but I think that you have the answers to my questions.

— Is it regarding the new ghoulette? Sister y/n?... I saw you together. I have to guess that one of the ghouls managed to get under her skin? Who was it? Dewdrop?... No, Swiss. Primo told me something about finding them alone in the library. At least we kept her a whole year away from the den... If you are here, I'm going to guess that something happened to her. Cirrus please, tell me, what happened…?—He pointed to a small coffee table with a bottle of wine. She took a seat and served him a glass.

— She burned her hand with one of the gates of the den and two marks appeared on her fingertips: a moon and a triangle and then, she blacked out and her skin turned almost translucent.

— Well, she has been already marked by Our Lord, he already picked her element... Her name will come to her in her dreams...

— So we had something to do with it? …Us being closer?

— I would like to say that you don't, just to keep you calm. But I'm not going to sugarcoat this, you are infecting your energy and essence on her and by this, you are accelerating the process. We thought about a year…? Well, six months at best.

— But... If we cut the communication...

— I knew that you would say something like that, tell me... She had sex with one of you?

— ... Swiss and Dewdrop.

— Try to stop them from reaching her, she already burned her scent in their brains. Their bodies once in rut are going to crave for her. And the process once started, little cloud, it cannot be changed or stopped. Tomorrow morning I will call Copia, we are going to have a meeting to talk about her.

—… I'm worried, if she doesn't want this life...

— Don't worry about that... She will be fine. This is a big thing for the church too, Cirrus. It's our first reborn, the sign of a new era for this church... It's no coincidence that we are presented with a new Papa at this time. Trust in Our Lord, Cirrus... Now, let's make a toast for our new ghoulette and the beginning of a new era.

After the toast, she said her goodbyes and returned to the den. She felt a weight in her shoulders; she didn't want to hurt her in any way and she knew that the ritual could be a lot for her to process. She only hoped for Copia and Secondo to help her and lead her way, and to tell her the truth as soon as possible.

In the den, Swiss guided her again to his room. With soft movements he began to undress her, he kneeled in front of her, who was seated on the bed, to take her stockings but as he removed the fabric he got lost in her legs. Caressing the exposed skin and giving soft kisses, she felt how he was restraining himself from getting too excited, how he was fighting the need to spread her legs open and feast on her. The truth was that she was hoping for a little more of the ghoul. She wanted to feel him over her, pressing her body against the mattress, making her moan and crumble underneath his weight. Only thinking about that made her legs press together to soothe some of the ache. He noticed it and her scent began to flow freely around his room. He felt relief at the sweet smell, back to normal, but at the same time he doubted. He didn't want to hurt her or make her collapse like before.

— Are you sure? You almost died before...— He traced a line from her ankles to her inner thigh with one of his claws, slowly, seductively. — I don't want to hurt you, Sweets...

—... Swiss, just...one more time... Don't you want to eat me…? Am I not tasty…?—She felt a bit ashamed but after their spectacle in the bus and hallway, she couldn't deny her true filthy nature in front of him anymore. And she knew it was a dirty trick, but the way in which the face of the ghoul transformed into pure lust and hunger solved all her doubts about her attitude.

— Oh y/n... If you are able to walk tomorrow, you should be thankful... I’m going to destroy you, little minx... Open your legs for me Sister, let me see my sweet treat...

She spread her legs and removed the underwear that she was wearing, the one that they stole from Cumulus after having sex on the bus. Swiss took it and put it in her mouth. She tried to protest but the stare of the ghoul made her quiet.

— You will need this, we can be too loud. The rest is sleeping…— He took a look at her wet sex, her labia was completely coated in her slick. She shimmered under the soft orange light of his room. He opened her labia with his fingers. — Look at that, so wet for me already... You are leaking, sister...— His eyes were glowing like ambers, his mouth watered at the sight. — You are a complete slut, huh? Already so wet... and look at that, you still have my cum inside you...—He slided one of his fingers inside of her with ease, she felt boiling inside. He licked his fangs before eating her out. His tongue pressed flat on top of her clit, licking softly, enjoying her flavor. He sucked the bud, pressing from time to time with his tongue while his fingers moved inside of her. She felt in a cloud, completely lightheaded. Her moans were muffled by the panties in her mouth, her hips moved back and forth looking for more contact with the ghoul. She looked at his horns, the texture seemed inviting for his hands; the black fading to gold in the tip, the armored texture, the shape that slightly curved upwards at the end. She couldn't help it. She grabbed the horns and pulled softly towards her, holding them to press him further into her, riding his face.

The ghoul moaned at the touch, his horns were sensitive. Her hands were so soft and, at the same time, handled him with a bit of strength. His already hard dick leaking huge amounts of precum. He used her help holding him in place to use his hands to relieve some tension, taking his pants and underwear off. He began to pump his hard erection, thrusting his hips into his hand. His tail moved around her legs, giving soft strokes to them. Her muffled moans were becoming louder, she was about to climax just by riding his face. The skilled ghoul's tongue was making wonders between her legs. How it entered his hole and moved inside her while his nose was pressed against her clit, how he devoured her trying to get more and more of her taste in his mouth. He wanted to make her cum over and over, mark her as his even if it lasted only a couple of days. Scent her so strong that no one would even dare to look at her without feeling his presence.

She kept holding his horns or pulling his hair between her fingers. The sounds that they both made were obscene, were pure lust and filth. He was sure that all of the den could hear them, but he didn't care that much. Even with the panties in her mouth she could be heard in the hallway.

— Mngh... Swiss pl-please, just... Ah... right there…

— Mnhpf...— His groans were muffled as she rode his face looking for her climax. Before she could even prepare herself for the feeling, it exploded -the coil bursted inside of her- and she let it out. Swiss kept his face pressed against her as he felt the squirt on his mouth. He pulled out slowly as her hands fell to her sides and left his horns.

— Ah, that... Swiss...

— Look at the mess you made...— He climbed on top of her, pinning her hands above her head with one of his hands. Looking at her body with that glow and fire in his eyes. Licking his fangs and the droplets that fell from his upper lip.— ... Look at that face... Do you want more? I'm sure you do...— He took his shirt off and the panties out of her mouth. She drooled at the sight, she never saw him fully naked. His chest was sweaty, almost shining with a coat of sweat, his arms were toned and with the veins that were marked down to his hands, where the gray of his body fade to black. She wanted to bite his pectorals, his neck, his collarbones, every piece of skin she could reach. She noticed that he had a couple of tattoos but in the dim light of the room she couldn't distinguish them clearly.

— Swiss...— She tried to let her hands free to touch him but he just gave her a sly smirk.

— Oh no... no touching until I told you so...— He rubbed the tip of his dick over her clit a couple of times, earning sweet needy moans from her. She moved her hips looking for more friction. — So eager... Who would have thought that you were so dirty, Sister y/n... I want to hear you say it...

— S-Swiss... no... Don't... tease...

— Oh, come on... Say it, say what you want Sister...

— Mngh... please, just fuck me please…!

—See? It was not that hard... Say it again— He lined the tip of his dick with her entrance, pushing slightly. — Come on...

— Mngh... Swiss, please!... Fuck me already, you... Ah! Fucking tease...

— As you wish, little brat. —He pushed into her with ease: in one push he was already all the way into her. She left out a breathy moan at the intrusion. The air that left her lungs felt hot, like exhaling fire. The air in the whole room felt thick with the primal sounds, the wet slapping, the moans. Her hands were trying to escape from his grip, she desperately wanted to touch him; to feel his hot body with her hands, pulling him closer to her. But his grip was strong. He smirked again while he thrusted into her. The cadenced movement was making her lose every grip that she had in reality, her mind was fogged with pleasure. She felt how his dick reached every spot inside her, how her walls were squeezing the living hell out of him, who was a grunting and gasping mess.

— Mngh… Swiss, I want to... Mgnh... I need to touch...

— Ah! You want to touch me? Huh?— he leaned closer to her ear, biting her earlobe and kissing his neck while he talked — And what if I don't let you?

— Mnhg... Don't be... Ah! Fucking hell... Swiss... Mnhg... don’t be an asshole...— She returned the smirk to him-. If he wanted her to be bratty, she was going to… Or at least she was going to try her best while the pleasure made her brain a mush.

— Mngh... You fucking brat...— His thrust became deeper, a steady pace but deeper than before. He felt her cervix stopping him and everytime he thrusted, he felt how her insides twitched, sucking him into her again.— No touching until you beg for it... How about that? You, slut...— Her tits bouncing seemed so inviting. He leaned as he thrusted closer to her chest and began to bite and pull her nipples in his mouth, flickering the sensitive buds with his tongue and sucking the skin that was exposed to him; his fangs traced the skin slowly, he didn't want to hurt her or be too rough to draw blood.

— Mgnh! Ah... Swiss, I'm… Imma... Ah!... Fucking ghoul, please! I want to touch you!

—Mmgh... Not enough... Beg for me...—He used his free hand to grab her face, making her look directly at him as he thrusted over and over.— I want to hear you... Beg for me, you lascivious whore...

—Mngh... Fuck you...— She moaned at the slap of the ghoul’s tail at her clit — Mngh... Ah!... Mngh... Swiss! I'm... I'm... Fuck, I need to touch you! I need you!

The multi ghoul moaned at the sound of her begging. He let her hands go and lifted her. He was standing, grabbing her by her hips as she caged him between her legs. Her arms went over his shoulders hugging him closer to her as she thrusted; gravity was making wonders to the position in which they were, pulling her down with strength everytime the ghoul pushed up with his thrusts. He could feel her tight insides squeezing him so well, the velvety walls inside her gushing and sucking him in every time he pulled out. The room was filled by moans from both of them, the way the slapping wet sound made a small echo in the room, the heavy breathing of the ghoul and the whimpers of the already dumbfucked sister.

Her nails digging in the ghoul’s skin, tracing his perfect back as she tried to get a slight grip into reality, her whole word was being blown away at this moment. She felt so full of pleasure, so full by the thick cock of the multi ghoul. In her mind there was nothing more than Swiss and his scent, she wanted to stay there forever. Swiss moaned at the feel of her nails, he looked at her to find no thought in that face beside a fucked out expression, she had a string of saliva running down her lips to her chin, her hair was a mess, her eyes seemed lost and full of lust and desire. He felt that proudness of being the one making her look like that, the nice sister that only a couple of days ago got red by only looking at him, the nice sister that looked so nice and composed behind that desk now was being fucked until dumb by him. His claws digged in her hips as he felt his own climax closer to him.

—Kiss me...— She looks at him with that fucked out expression and then he took his time kissing from his neck to her chin and then kissed her lips. She really tasted like tangerines or pomegranates. The kiss was sloppy, intense and full of passion. They both devoured each other over and over again, his tongue licking her lips after they finished the kiss. She kissed him again and again and again. Her hands pressed on his back digging her nails with strength, she bit his lip and pulled a bit looking at him and his lustful expression. He loved making a mess of her, bringing out her lustful self.

—Such a naughty girl... Mngh, fuck, I'm close... You want me to fill you, huh?... Mngh, ah! Keep squeezing me like that... fuck, you feel so good, my pretty girl...

She knew that the thing that she was going to ask for was risky, but she felt the urge to be knotted by him. She wanted him to go feral in her, even if tomorrow she could barely walk to her room.

— Knot me... I want to be filled to the brim by you...

He never thought that she knew about that special "ability" that they had. He never, in a million years, could have phantom the dirty request made by the "shy" sister. His body reacted immediately, the knot at the base of his full erected cock appeared. It had the same fade from black to gold that his horns. His horns grew a bit, his skin was not only gray anymore, it had some gold accents, almost like reptile scales. His pupils were dilated to a full, his fangs grew to stick out a bit from his mouth and his claws grew as well. Fully primal, almost animal. His voice even sounded like a growl.

— You fucking slut... Once I knot you, my filthy whore... you are going to be only mine, maybe I will... Mngh... share you with the rest of the ghouls, but… Ah, fucking hell... if one of those filthy human brothers of the congregation dares to even look at you... I'm going to fucking kill him...— He sat on the bed with her on top— So tell me... Are you sure you want me to knot you?

Something in her, maybe the last bit of common sense, tried to refuse the offer that she already had begged for... But the part of her that wanted to be fucked like this everyday of her life didn't care one bit. She moved her hips looking for more of him.

— Mngh, fucking knot me already Swiss‼ I want you! I need to be filled by you!

That was all the ghoul needed to hear, he went full animalistic. His claws digging in her skin hard enough to draw some blood, his thrusts were becoming harder as he was so close. The spade of his tail pressing her clit as she bounced, his fangs marking her shoulders, neck and collarbone; she was going to be bruised as hell tomorrow, but neither of them seemed to care.

As they both approached their climax the heat inside of the room was almost unbearable: the bed was slamming into the floor and wall, he probably would never hear the end of it tomorrow, he was sure they had the whole den up and listening to their spectacle. But he couldn't care less. She was tightening so nice around his dick, he was almost there. With one deep thrust he felt the base of his knot pressing against her. He thursted again feeling how he stretched her around his knot. After a couple more thrusts the knot fully entered.

—Oh, my fucking devil... Swiss! This... Ah! I'm... I'm... Fuck, Swiss, like that! Oh, fucking hell! I'm coming!

The coil snapped, she came with a loud moan digging her nails as hard as she could in his flesh. He bled a little but the subtle pain was even more pleasure for him. She squirmed and moaned as her orgasm bursted, her squirting wetting the bed and the ghoul’s belly. He grabbed her hips giving her a last thrust and releasing his thick cum inside her, the knot throbbed a bit. She felt how her insides were being coated and filled with his sperm. They stayed in the same position for a while, his hands caressing her back with soft strokes, helping her to ride her last waves of pleasure and relaxing her over him.

— You were great... Such a good girl, aren't you? It's okay, breathe...— He kissed his forehead before taking a look to where their bodies were connected. His knot was still there, her pussy was a bit red and stretched around him. He was a bit worried that he may have hurt her. — It's going to take some time for it to come down... Are you okay?

— That... That was... Mngh...—Everytime she moved she could feel the knot inside her, it felt amazing.— That was incredible... I feel so full...—She looked at the tip of her fingers, the deep burgundy color on her nails seemed to be the blood of the ghoul.— Oh Lucifer... Did I hurt you?

— No no, don't worry... I like it... You should do it more, I will be glad.— He got up with her in his arms, trying to not make abrupt movements. He went for a towel and then laid on the bed with her on top, the knot was slowly going back to normal. He used the wet towel to clean her face, some of her blood that fell from the indents of his claws and fangs. — I'm sorry I got carried away… Does it hurt?

— Mnn, no... Don't be sorry... I liked it.— She gave him a reassuring smile while caressing his chest. — Tomorrow I'm going to be sore as hell, am I?

— For sure...— They both laughed and, as they did, they heard a small "pop" sound, the knot went back to normal and his dick slided out from her. She felt the hot cum of the ghoul going down her legs.

— Mngh... I want to take a shower but it's late...— She let herself rest in the chest of the ghoul, while this caressed her back and waist with his big hands.

— Don't worry... I can't take you to the tub, so you can take a bath while I change the bedsheets.

— Mnn... I can walk...—She tried to move her legs but they felt like jello.

— No, you can't...— He laughed and took her to the bathroom, letting her rest on the tub while he filled it with warm water. After a while he went to change the bedsheets and then returned to get in the tub with her. She rests her back in the ghoul’s chest while caressing his arms that were around her.

— You were serious about what you said? The whole "I'm going to kill if they look at you" shit?

— Dead serious... I can share tho, with the rest of the ghouls... and maybe even Papa... and Terzo…but you are mine.

— Well... I can live with it...— She laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. — But you cannot kill someone just because they looked at me, and you cannot interfere with my work...

— Mnnnn... Ok, I’m not going to kill anyone but I will scare them if they try to flirt with you.

— No one flirts with me, Swiss. You, the ghouls, are the only ones that seem interested in me... Hey, that means that I can scare the sisters that flirt with you…?

— Oh babe, you can scare away every single one of them, I'm not interested… I only want to make you mine over and over, but seeing you jealous is something that interests me...

— If I get jealous I'm going to make Dew and Aether pay for it. And you are going to watch.

— Mnnn... that sounds tempting...— They both laughed at the ghoul’s comment. After a couple of minutes they left the tub and went to Swiss’ room. They felt some moans coming from Aether's door as they walked to Swiss’ room. They recognized the fire ghoul’s voice and just laughed a bit before going to sleep. She fell asleep first, Swiss was still a bit worried. If she was going to become a ghoul like them, would she change her heart? She would leave him? He was sure that he could never let her go from this moment forward, she was already marked by him... and he could not even begin to imagine his life without her scent near him now that he had her. He gave her a soft kiss on the forehead and went to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a complete nightmare or a really amazing day. It was now in the hands of fate... or Lucifer.

A.N : Hiiii! I finished this chapter at last! I want to clarify some things before ending the chapter.

First, I decided that swiss was going to be the main pair of the reader because they had more chemistry between them for now, and more interactions. But as Swiss said he can and will share with the rest of the ghouls, it's a polyamorous situation.

Second, the ghouls have stablish couples like Rain and Mountain or Cirrus and Sunshine, but they all are involved in an open relationship. As long as is with consent love and care , they are okay with it.

And third, In the next chapter I will dive deeper in the whole reborn thing and how it will affect the reader. But, for now I can say a couple of things, the reader is going to die, yes she has to die in order to be reborn and also, the papas are going to be heavily involved in the process.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter 💕 I will try to post more often now that I'm trying to get rid of the writers block. But sadly I enter university in a month so, after entering I will try my best to upload often. 💕 Have a nice day, drink water, eat something and rest well 💕

Tag list : @hauntedboobees @yuk-for-president @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @jbcalway @onedaughterofman @serene-sun