#the man the myth the frost

[frostbitepandaaaaa]

thanks for the tag @jynskassa !

currently reading: daughter of the moon goddess. i put it down for a few weeks and recently came back to it and i like it much more than i did

last song: “baby birch” Joanna Newsom. i was drunk last night and really wanted to wail and cry. it got the job done.

last movie: Top Gun: Maverick

gonna tag @justwandering-neverlost @ashleyfanfic @quarantineddreamer @gaygingersnaps @staticwaffles

[eilidh-eternal]

Between @peachesofteal, @ceilidho and @charliemwrites I have been plagued with mind rotting thoughts of manipulative!Johnny and I wrote this in a feverish haze

So uhhhh yeah, here’s 1.8k words of Johnny being an overbearing and possessive menace to reader

This will be part of a larger collection of works The Wild Hunt Masterlist

This is a dark fic, 18+ MDNI, descriptions of kidnapping, coercion and mentions of death below the cut

Snow falls beyond the frosted window panes, flickering like static in shafts of warm-hued lamplight and collecting in powdery, white drifts. The picturesque cityscape and the dissonant overlapping of conversation coming from the gathering of family and friends in a quaint town house decorated for the upcoming holidays feels like something plucked out of a cliché holiday romcom. Except this isn’t a yuletide gathering, and the congregation of familiar faces is one less tonight.

This is a wake. And an odd one at that.

You didn’t believe in the myth that deaths are more frequent around the holidays, and you certainly didn’t believe in a black cat that eats the souls of the recently deceased if you don’t throw a proper party with games and drinking, and enough food to feed a small army, at the wake. But this is Scotland, and the country is teeming with myths and superstitions. 

So, here you sit. Curled into the corner of a sofa with a glass of… something. You’ve been told it’s like eggnog, done the Scottish way. 

Great aunts, uncles, cousins several times removed and friends of the deceased distant relative all nurse their own glasses of the festive drink, and various recounts of fond memories are shared amongst the group gathered in the living room. There’s one voice that stands out among the others, and you watch with reserved interest as the mohawked man it belongs to tells his story. It’s a little louder, with more bravado than the rest, narrating his memory with a jubilance that belies great fondness. 

You’d never met the man everyone was reminiscing about, only came tonight because a cousin on your fathers side—the Scottish side—had cajoled you into going with her to the wake so she’d have someone to talk to besides her mother. You didn’t understand why she’d begged and pleaded as you sat in your corner alone while she flits about here and there, talking to just about everyone there about anything and everything. A trait you had not inherited from your Scottish patronage. You’re so deep in your own thoughts in fact that you don’t immediately register the added weight on the sofa beside you, the way it dips and bows beneath it, until that lilting bravado is crooning in your ear, close enough to feel the whisper of warm air from his breath on the outer shell.

“How’d ya know Captain MacMillan?” 

You blink, realize you’d been so entrenched in your own thoughts that you hadn’t even seen the man you’d been watching stand from his seat and take up the empty space next to you, and a flush of embarrassment blooms across your cheeks when you realize he must have seen you staring. When the rest of your body catches up with your brain you turn to face him, finding his face mere inches from yours. 

He smells like the earth after it rains, like petrichor, and it mingles with something tangier—something sharp—like the honed edge of a blade. His smile is just as striking, all teeth and curling lips. Feline.

And his eyes—bluer than Loch Lomond on a clear, sunny day, and glittering in the same way the sunlight catches on the cresting ripples at the water's surface. They feel just as deep and endless too, the way his pupils flare and swallow that brilliant blue as he studies your face with a startling intensity, devouring every detail. Something rattles and trills in your mind at the way his gaze seems to drag you down, down, down, where it’s hard to breathe beneath the waves, and you can’t tell if the sound is sweet music or a frantic warning. 

The realization that you haven’t yet given him an answer dawns on you and you suck in a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. 

“I uh… I didn’t know him. I knew of him though—a distant relative,” you explain and your fingers curl tighter around the glass in your hands.

He doesn’t lean away, remains firmly inside your little bubble and cocks his head in a manner that reminds you of a cat watching a bird outside a window. Hunting. He’s so close you can see the shadow of a beard, freshly shaved but with new growth already pushing its way to the surface to darken the sharp line of his jaw.

He hums. A low rumbling sound that emanates from deep within his chest. “Didnae ken the Captain comes from such a bonnie family,” he says in that swaggering bravado, and it almost sounds like a purr. “What’s yer name, hen?”

You give him your name, along with an outstretched hand which he takes in his large one, palm and pads of his fingers rough and callous against your own, and his pupils flare wider, causing his eyes to darken a sinful shade. “I’m Johnny MacTavish. Or Soap, if ye like,” he says, and holds onto your hand for just a few seconds longer than he should, the warmth of it branding your skin before he lets go.

“Soap?” you question and quickly pull your hand back into what remains of the personal space he seems intent on crowding, feeling like you’ve reached for a hot pan without a mitt.

“It’s muh callsign,” he says and drapes an arm over the back of the couch behind you, caging you into your little corner. 

More bells.

“I’m military. SAS, like the Captain.”

SAS.

Suddenly you’re seeing all of the things that had drawn your interest to him earlier in a new light.

He’s built. Broad shouldered and bulky in the arms and thighs that have been creeping closer ever since he sat down. The scar on his chin that pulls taught when he smiles with all his teeth. The metallic tang that lingers on his skin. How silently he had suddenly appeared on the couch beside you.

Danger.

He places his broad hand on your thigh and your eyes jerk to his. There’s a menacious glint flickering in the dark pools that reels you in and pulls you under, like the kelpies young children are warned about. 

Don’t get too close to the water or you’ll drown. Don’t get too close to him.

His hand feels more like a paw, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your leg like a cat sinking its claws into fresh meat.

“They’re choosin’ teams fer quarters,” he says with a nod in the direction of the coffee table where guests have begun to gather around an arrangement of disposable cups, bottles of scotch and a collection of coins, splitting into two groups. “Think ye should be on my team,” he says a shade darker, fingers digging harder into your thigh and lips curling back to reveal his feline grin once more. 

You pull your leg away from him, tugging it closer to your chest, and your heart thumps insistently against your ribs, pulse quickening in the way prey that recognizes the hunt does. You feel like a mouse caught between the claws of a kellas cat, half-wild things that roam the highlands.

“I-I actually have to go,” you blurt and shoot to your feet before he can sink his claws in further, discarding your half-empty glass on the end table. “I don’t hold my liquor well, and I have an early morning tomorrow.” It’s a lie, but how would he know? You snatch your sweater from the arm of the sofa and shove trembling arms through the sleeves. “It was… nice meeting you though.”

Was it?

“A-and I’m sorry for your loss.” The words come tumbling out like you can’t say them fast enough, tripping over your own tongue as you hurry to extricate yourself from his grasp. You don’t wait for him to return the sentiment, turning on your heel and making a beeline for your cousin.

You tell her you’re tired and heading home, offering a brief hug for her and your aunt before you have to walk back through the living room, right past Johnny, to get to the door. You don’t know if it’s relief or dread that flutters in your stomach when you see Johnny no longer occupies his spot on the couch as you cross the room. Isn’t anywhere in sight. 

With your down coat bundled tightly around you, you step out into the cold night, immediately hit with icy wind and stinging particles of snow against your cheeks. Your car is parked just around the corner, less than a minute's walk. And you take hurried steps away from the town house towards the pavement.

You should have been more careful.

One moment you’re turning the corner towards your car and the next your feet are sliding out from under you on ice-slick pavement, sending you to the ground in a bone-shuddering fall.

Your skull cracks off the pavement and it echoes between your ears. You lay stunned on the ground, unable to do more than groan at the pain radiating from the base of your skull down your spine.

And then there’s hands on your shoulders. Large, warm hands that glide up your neck and prod at the tender flesh at the back of your head. You groan at the painful press of calloused fingers and a familiar voice coos to you.

“Took quite a tumble, wee rabbit. Ye really shouldnae have been walkin’ so quick through all this snow,” he says as he retracts his fingers from your head and they settle on your shoulders again.

You groan, trying to open your eyes and see through the flakes of snow that blur your vision as you try and fail to lift your head.

“Dinnae move too much, ye’ll hurt yerself more.” His hands move from your shoulders to snake beneath your knees and under your back to lift you from the ground.

You moan as the motion jostles your head and sends a blinding jolt of pain through your skull, exploding behind your eyes and sending stars dancing wildly across your remaining vision.

“Shhh wee thing, yer awright. I’ll make sure that pretty little heid of yours is tended to.” 

You’re being carried, cradled to a broad chest by burly arms. Smells like rain-

No…. No, no, nonono-

You try to force your eyes open, fighting desperately against the tunneling of your vision to see through the hazy edges and blurry focus.

You’re shifted against him and you cry out as pain flares bright behind your eyes again, and he coos, telling you he’s got you now. He’ll take care of you.

Broken whimpers bubble up in your throat as you’re laid down on something soft, and you wince against the rumble of an engine as it purrs to life. Everything sounds like it’s underwater, and somehow amplified to rattle your brain in your skull. You feel heavy, arms and legs turned to lead.

“Was here fer the captain, but when I saw ye, so pretty curled up on that sofa… knew then I was leavin’ with ye instead.”

It’s the last thing you hear before your fading consciousness suddenly gives way to complete and total darkness.

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[kfaem]

Love and Deepspace; Sleepless Nights

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

I was in the shower listening to Sleepless Nights by 9Muses and got this idea in my head. I’m starting to write this at 1am so don’t expect quality lol. Pairing: Zayne/F!Reader Genre: Angst, Hurt with Comfort CW: Written on mobile, nightmares, possible descriptions of gore, some spoilers to his myth i guess?, use of nicknames (dove, aurora) Summary: When MC has a nightmare that leaves her shaken.

She was running. Boots hitting the concrete with a solid slam as she darted through the crowd of blurry faces. She was running to a burning building.

Then she wasn’t running anymore. She was in a field of wilted jasmine flowers. The sky a toxic grey, clouds masking any hint of a blue sky from her eyes. The wilted flowers crunched under her bare feet as she walked. She didn’t know where she was headed until she saw a silhouette. “Zayne?” She called out, voice hoarse, a hollow echo flooding the nearly empty field.

But he ignored her. As she drew closer, steps growing more frantic, it felt as though he was only getting further away. “Zayne!” She called desperately, tears welling up in her eyes as an indescribable feeling of fear overcame her.

Before she could break out into a run, the ground disappeared below her. She plummeted down, landing somewhat painlessly on a hard stone floor. A chain had been secured on her wrist and a beautifully ominous frost began to creep towards her. She shivered violently, weakly pleading for Zayne to save her. She closed her eyes for a moment and found herself in front of him. He was shackled by chains the same way she had been but this time, he was gritting his teeth. “Zayne?” Her lips were stiff from the cold and a soft snowflake pattern etched itself up her body. “What…what is this? What’s happening?”

His brow furrowed and his eyes shut as an icicle plunged through his chest. “I-I don’t want to hurt you…” Zayne gasped, the icicles continuing to pierce through his skin. “This isn’t me, my dove, I-I’m so sorry.” A sob like sound fell from his lips as a horrid pain shot through her heart. Her gaze fell, it was one of his icicles.

She gasped, lungs expanding as though she was drowning. The man she loved was sitting up beside her in a heartbeat, gently running his fingers through her hair. "You're alright, I've got you." He frowned at her shaken state, the silence filling the room was deafening. "Do you need anything? Water, something to eat?" His voice was gentle, soft. The voice he only used for her.

"I-I...I saw you get hurt. You died." Zayne cupped her face in his hands, wiping the tears from her weeping eyes. "Then-then you lost control of your evol, the ice..." She raised her hand to her chest, the memory of the shard tearing through her skin felt so real. "You looked so scared, so afraid... I couldn't even say anything."

Zayne remained silent, a soft sigh falling from his mouth. "You will never have to worry about that coming true, my aurora, I will never harm you even if it kills me." He pulled her against his chest, placing one of her shaking hands on his chest. "See? We're here, you can feel my heart beating, can't you?"

Her breathing started to even out then, the aching in her chest subsiding now that she could truly feel him in front of her. "I love you, Zayne."

"I love you too, aurora."

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi!

My best friend's short story collection just came out!! (It's here on Goodreads).

Ancient British myths reimagined According to stories, we share our world with a menagerie of mysterious creatures. What happens when those creatures appear in the modern world? Do fairies still like traditional offerings of herbs and spices? Do unicorns still live in forests? Do sea serpents still yearn to eat innocent maidens? This collection of stories brings myths from across the UK to a modern world with offices, cities and fast food restaurants. The consequences are often comedic, sometimes horrific and always surprising.

I haven't written my proper goodreads review for it yet (it's on the agenda) but as a huge queer fairytale fan I loved it!

The style is just delightfully cosy and funny compared to anything I could ever come up with. I also really like that at the end she talks about all of the original versions of the myths, so if you're interested in local folklore from the UK it's also great for that.

Give it a go if you fancy reading about Jack Frost falling in love with the Green Man, goblins running amok in the office printer, ghost dogs and more!

You can talk to her on Twitter or whatever it's called @ficcaholic.

[rlbbackup]

Rachel's SxF Ao3 Masterlist

Just to keep things kinda organized. Honestly, the easiest place to find all of this is on My Ao3 in the first place, but I'll link it here for convenience! ❤️

If you are curious as to how I feel about certain things pertaining to my work, please see THIS post! My inbox is also open for any questions (and you can do so Anonymously if you wish!)

One-Shots

The Art of Lipstick Complete (TwiYor)

Amnesia Full Fic In Progress (Forger Family)

Ledgers and Reports Complete (Sylvia Sherwood & Forger Family)

White Roses Complete (Matthew McMahon & Yor Forger)

Strawberry Ice Cream Complete (Franky Franklin & Anya Forger)

What D'You Say We Make It True Complete (Anya Forger/Ken)

In The Downpour Complete (Twilight/Thorn Princess)

Oblivious Complete (Twilight & Yor Forger)

Coming Home Complete (TwiYor)

Deer in the Headlights Complete (TwiYor)

Fading Ink Complete (Loid & Yor Forger)

Glad You're Here Complete (Damian Desmond & Anya Forger)

Just This Once... Complete (Twilight & Yor Forger)

Heroes Always Get Married in the COOLEST Ways! Complete (Loidman/Yorticia, Anya & Becky)

Just a Kiss Complete (TwiYor)

The Way to a Man's Heart (Not through his ribs) Complete (TwiYor)

All For Naught Complete (Yor Forger & Yuri Briar)

Side by Side and Locked in Tight Complete (Anya Forger/Ken)

Don't Forget to Lock the Door Complete (Loid/Yor/Franky)

Little Black Number Complete (Yor Forger & Melinda Desmond)

Inferno Complete (Chloe & SSS First Lieutenant & Yuri Briar)

Throwing Away Fate (Just to Keep You Safe) Complete (Franky Franklin/Original Male Character)

Freestanding Multichaps

In the Rain Complete (Forger Family)

A Moment of Weakness Complete (Loid Forger & Melinda Desmond)

Floodgates In Progress with the lovely @creativwit CW: Graphic Violence (Franky/OC, TwiYor)

7 Minutes in Heaven Complete (Cecil Hall Gang + Bill + Ken) written with @sister-cna-reader @cambot77 @strangeduckpaper and @creativwit

Hanahaki Series

Flowers and Thorns Complete (TwiYor)

Pink Sakura Complete (Anya/Ken) CW: vomiting

Bruises Series

Yor's Bruise Complete (Yor Focus)

Loid's Bruise Complete (Twilight Focus)

Dreams of Staying Series (Reveal)

Out of Routine Complete (TwiYor + Forger Family)

His Cuts, Her Cuts Complete (TwiYor)

Get My Heart Soft Into Sinking Complete (Yor Forger & Matthew McMahon)

Fighting the Heart Series

Snake with Blue Eyes Complete (TwiYor)

We Never Knew Complete (Anya & Yor + TwiYor)

Sleeping With The Telephone In Progress! (Forger Family + TwiYor)

Love Found, Love Lost Series

Just Another Day (in Learning How to Love You) Complete (Twilight & Yor Forger)

Oh Your Smile (Brightens My Life) Complete TW: Contains Major Character Death (Anya Forger & Ken)

Gone Rogue Complete (Sylvia Sherwood & Fiona Frost)

Briar Rose On Hiatus (Thorn Princess & Twilight, Yor Forger & Matthew McMahon)

Weapons Series (Reveal/Post Reveal-Pre Relationship)

Hypothetically... Complete (TwiYor)

Calibration and Titration Complete (TwiYor)

Weapons (On You, On Me) Complete (TwiYor)

Your Spare Blade Complete (TwiYor)

Rendezvous Complete (Sylvia Sherwood & Matthew McMahon)

Crosslegged in the Dim Light Complete (TwiYor)

Starlight Sky Series (Myth Au)

The Soldier and His Sun Complete TW: Contains Major Character Death (Roland & Loid Forger)

Beyond Sun and Moon Complete (Misc friendships + TwiYor)

Doubt Creeps In Complete (TwiYor)

Soothing Rays Complete (TwiYor)

New Moon Blues Complete (TwiYor + Anya)

[julesofnature]

"Every walk to the woods is a religious rite, every bath in the stream is a saving ordinance… There are no heretics in Nature’s church; all are believers, all are communicants. The beauty of natural religion is that you have it all the time; you do not have to seek it afar off in myths and legends, in catacombs, in garbled texts, in miracles of dead saints or wine-bibbing friars. It is of to-day; it is now and here; it is everywhere. The crickets chirp it, the birds sing it, the breezes chant it, the thunder proclaims it, the streams murmur it, the unaffected man lives it. Its incense rises from the plowed fields, it is on the morning breeze, it is in the forest breath and in the spray of the wave. The frosts write it in exquisite characters, the dews impearl it, and the rainbow paints it on the cloud. It is not an insurance policy underwritten by a bishop or a priest; it is not even a faith; it is a love, an enthusiasm, a consecration to natural truth."

~John Burroughs

[lifes-line]

So I’m rewatching Rise of the Guardians and I wanna say something - a theory I have about the movie that is never verbally theorized or communicated but heavily implied,,, or they just made a mistake

SO- the scene I’m talking about is in the movie, when they’re all at Easter island or Bunny’s realm, Jack has to take Sophie back home.

Now for context; rise of the guardians is a movie about how Jack Frost becomes the guardian of fun and to protect that child immaturity or fun they have.

The other guardians include Sand man(guardian of dreams), Santa(guardians of wonder), tooth fairy(guardian of memories?, and the Easter bunny(guardian of hope)

Pitch Black isn’t a guardian but he is like a myth like the other guys and he’s the villain.

Jack Frost started out the same way all the guardians do and as Pitch Black does; unbelieved in. And when no one believes in you; you are both physically weak and no one can touch you or see you and the guardians cannot physically touch any humans either.

This is important. No one can see Jack Frost- so when we see him in action in the beginning of the movie with the kids and Jamie asks “who is Jack Frost?” It’s evident enough there, no one has heard of this dude.

Now an important fact with contributes to my theory- his mom is the one who mentions Jack Frost and she says that as she takes Sophie back inside.

But focusing on Jack - in this Easter realm part of the movie, Sophie has snuck into the Easter realm and plays with the guardians until she eventually falls asleep, now they must discuss who can take her back home.

Jack says he’ll do it - already not possible because still in this moment even with the other guardians, no one believes in him. YET. SOMEHOW.

Jack is physically able to touch and carry Sophie all the way back home.

So at that point in the movie or PRIOR; someone started believing in Jack Frost.

The working theory is; Jamie’s mom or even Sophie at the beginning of the movie believed in Jack Frost.

Obviously the mom doesn’t because she can’t see him - but after she mentions Jack Frost we no longer see Sophie on screen anymore.

This is interesting later when she sees everyone in the Easter realm- she ONLY addresses the Easter bunny and the tooth fairy. Not caring at all for Jack Frost or Santa. Not because she can’t see them, but because she’s a little girl who likes cute things; like bunnies and fairies.

She also has to believe in Jack Frost if he is able to carry her back home.

This is also important because as I established; it’s the children’s belief in the guardians that makes them strong.

That’s why bunny shrinks near the end of the movie, Santa’s age catches up to him, tooth can’t fly etc

But in the fight scene where Pitch Black defeats Sand man; Jack retaliates with a very strong ice attack and defeats Pitch Black - Jack isn’t sure how he was capable of doing something so powerful and I believe it was after the interaction he’s had with the kids-

Sophie heard her mom say something about a Jack Frost “nipping at your nose” and now that child associates Jack Frost with snow or frostbite - and you know how kids believe anything they’re told, even if it’s not to them.

So; final theory.

Jack was able to carry Sophie and be this strong because SOPHIE believed in him in the beginning of the movie.

[theemmtropy]

First Light: A Gale x Tav short fic

Inspired by Hozier's song "First Light", bc Tim Downie put it on his Gale playlist.

Tags: Spoilers for Act 2 of Baldur's Gate 3, Gale x Tav, 2nd person reader, Gender neutral reader, minor violence, see-the-light moment, fr this man is so Tangled coded it's insane

Word count: 616

Also posted on AO3!

You can’t see Gale on the battlefield. Where was he last? You could’ve sworn he had Misty Stepped away to a safe distance, after you’d shouted at him to get clear of the newest wave of Shadow-Cursed enemies. And gods, where is Halsin? The portal won’t last much longer.

As you spin around, cracking down undead with the Blood of Lathander and throwing spells against incorporeal spirits, you catch a glimpse of glittering frost, quickly engulfed by swarming bodies. Through the din, you hear, “Weave save me,” and know that the man you love won’t last much longer without help.

You feel your magic draining- but still, you lurch towards him. The bodies you beat down pile around your feet- but still, you stumble towards him. A shade drains your strength, weakening not just your body, but also your confidence in winning this fight- but still, you keep your eyes on Gale and force your way through. The Shadow-Cursed enemies cringe away from the godly light that your mace casts, but you still have to exert all your might in order to actually defeat them.

Finally, you push back the ghouls enough to stare down at Gale’s beaten, bloody body. The mark on his chest is beginning to glow, and you can tell that he is fading. Dropping to one knee, you rifle through your satchel for a healing potion. Nothing. Desperately, you reach for his satchel, and a sob of relief leaves your lips as you pull out a basic potion of healing; it’s not much, but it’s enough to save him. You pull the cork from the bottle, grasp his chin, and pour the liquid into his mouth with as much gentleness as your battle-weary hands can manage.

He sputters, choking down the potion, and you see his eyelids flutter, but there is no time for relief: you hear yet another wave of enemies approaching, and with newfound resolve, you rise. Standing over Gale’s semi-conscious body, you ready the Blood of Lathander. It’s a weapon that you ordinarily wouldn’t take with you, but today, you knew that it was imperative that any Shadow-Cursed enemy feel the full might of the sun. And so, with the light of the gods in your hands, and the light of your life at your feet, you take your stand.

Gale cracks his eyes open, the familiar taste of a healing potion greeting him as he returns to consciousness. His vision is blurry, his mind slowly clearing of fog as he remembers where he is. As his eyes find focus, the sight of you- bloody and enraged and screaming- is like something out of a myth. You stand over him, the shining mace held high in one hand, bursts of magic shooting out from the other. Gale can’t help but feel like you’ve been blessed by Lathander, like you’re the rising sun, shining your first light on these bleak, cold lands.

Gale has danced through the stars, but never before has he fallen in love with the sun.

And then, with no warning, all fighting ceases. The Shadow-Cursed enemies either crumple to the ground, or vanish completely. Gale sits up slowly, craning his head to see that Halsin has returned with Thaniel, the portal vanishing behind them.

You are exhausted, chest heaving and mace hanging by your side, but seeing Gale’s movement, you drop down to your knees, straddling his body, and take his face in your hands. “Next time,” he starts, trying to catch his breath, “I’ll get well out of the fray of-”

You cut him off with a desperate kiss, Lathander’s mace laying forgotten by your side. The only blessing you need right now is Gale.

[thecomfywriter]

Poem Writing Challenge

oop, i didn't even notice that @an-indecisive-nerd tagged me to do it too. okay! poem challenge that i accidentally created LMAO

does it have to be haiku? i'll do multiple types lol because i lowkey already have one for evan/yozar lol

(@sm-writes-chaos here is some mythology lore for you, but it's not the best of my selection. i promise, i have better)

✧༺♥༻∞

Yozar's Famous Ballad:

He whose body is as radiant as gold,

And face as blooming as midnight's silver.

He whose eyes carry summer's wrath,

And heart as guarded as frosted winter.

He whose brow is as sharp as steel--

Straight, angular-- prisitine as arrow's head.

And he whose lips are curved as bow's shaft,

And hair more fierce than the bloodiest of reds.

To Him, the world bows and bellows,

Dances for, prays to, weeps;

Ornate offerings and bejewelled artistry,

All in desire for His attention they seek.

Tributes and battles,

Honours and glories,

Songs and ballads,

Legends and stories.

He who commands the world with love,

Admiration, wrath, and fury,

Which ballad should a daughter sing,

To hear him once say sorry?

The man of myth, of legend, of rage,

The man with the golden heart.

The God of life and carrier of death--

His anger is bitter and tarte.

The priests all weep,

They wail,

They pray--

Yozar, just once, say her name.

They beg in sorrow, for the loss of life,

Yozar, this curse end naught with her spite.

Yozar, our heavenly divine, elegant beast,

We claim naught any disloyalty,

Nor claim you for any wrongs,

But Yozar-- you are a father to more than one.

The priests all weep every night he leaves,

Yozar, please, oh please-- stay with me.

But a daughter weeps around the clock,

For his love for her is less than naught.

With which tragedies shall I sing my song?

So my tale of misery can be sung by all?

What notes would make him look my way,

And, for once, call his daughter by her name?

Father please, father please, father please,

Your daughter pleads, she pleads, do you hear me plead?

Accept me, oh please, that's all I need,

Accept me, I scream, accept me, accept me.

- Curse of Yozar's famous ballad (the name of the ballad is a spoiler but yes here she is)

✧༺♥༻∞

AND NOW FOR A UNIQUE ONE for evan. let's try a haiku style:

Evan Haiku Style Poem:

With mortals walks a god--

Beauty defined, golden eyes.

Can't hide his sorrow.

✧༺♥༻∞

lol i tried.

More traditional format that i'm used to?

Evan Regular Degular Poem:

Looketh here, at the man of the gods,

From every footstep, the heavens applaud,

And every sunrise calls his name,

Yet why does the divine man cast his eyes in shame?

Where does he look when he looks within?

What shadows does he lock behind the doors of sin?

Who is he when he is not beauty defined?

What secrets does he hide in those golden eyes?

✧༺♥༻∞

ALRIGHTY! tagging the TCW crew because that was fun!

Happy Writing! :)

✧༺♥༻∞

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[jojotier]

listen the thing with Dirk and Terezi post game is that they got a Light and L death note kinda deal going on if L was a feral lesbian who loved eating chalk and never stopped smiling. they are CONSTANTLY playing 5d chess with each other and its not even because of any serious thing it's just bc Dirk feels like he's found some kind intellectual equal due to their inverse aspects and general sophistry and is determined to get one over on Terezi. Terezi meanwhile knows that the best way to win chess is to troll out and eat all the pieces so while Dirk is going on some grand soliloquy about how Camus' myth of sissyphus dictates that if life is truly absurd then it is the perogative of the common man to make his own narrative Terezi hits him with "sounds like something someone who ate the last of Crocker's cupcakes would say......." and then the death note theme music plays while Dirk internally monologues about how if he comes clean and says he ate it it might tick a point of humor in his favor despite never having touched that cupcake but if he denies it then Terezi will trip him into a false confession regardless, because saying he Didn't Eat It is exactly what someone who Did Eat It would say, but if he accuses someone else then he makes himself look desperate, meaning in the end he takes the fall. is the only way out through? will taking the fall prove his innocence down the line? if he is the facade of a man known as Dirk Strider, what is the course of action that he is most likely to take, and how does that align with the perceptions of everyone else in the room? meanwhile Terezi has a mustache literally made of frosting

[sluttyten]

UNHOLY - Chapter Seven

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

genre: supernatural au

characters: fem reader, yuta, ten, winwin, mark, others mentioned

tags: polyamory, smut, knotting, mentions of breeding, threesome, double penetration, angst

length: 18,094

<-previous || next–>

There aren’t truly seasons here in this place, you realize as time goes on. Days flicker by like nothing; time doesn’t truly pass here. The immutable twilight hour hangs forever over this city. But you do begin to notice the way the weather changes, shifting to a minor degree, growing cooler as you dive into the time that would be the true start of winter if you were at home. 

Both Yuta and Ten are more than happy to spend those cool days in bed with you or wandering the city and treating you to warm drinks and hot meals. 

The noticeable shift in the weather does make you long for late autumn and early winter at home. Those early mornings when the world would be covered in frost, each blade of grass shimmering in the rising sunlight, your breath clouding in front of your face as you walked to work. You miss the first good, solid freeze of the year when the ponds would freeze completely and packs of kids would gather around the ponds to skate on their smooth surfaces. 

You find yourself missing Christmas music and decorations, the excitement of the season, the snowfall and celebration of it all. 

Yuta wrinkles his nose a little when you mention it to him one day. 

You’re sitting out on your small balcony together. You’re drinking a hot tea, cupping the mug in your hands and using just a little bit of your flame to keep it from cooling down in the sharp, bitter wind that licks against your balcony. Yuta sits behind you, limbs wrapped around you, his chin tucked over your shoulder. 

“What is there to celebrate about winter?” He asks. “It’s cold, dark, everything dies. Why would humans want to celebrate?”

“It’s a religion thing, mostly.” You sigh, the steam coming off the top of your mug blows out towards the city. Beneath you, it doesn’t look like winter, and you sink into memories of proper winter. “It’s so lovely this time of year back at home. All the snow and the Christmas lights, the smell of pine trees and peppermint. All the stores are packed this time of year, and toy stores go a little overboard, to an almost fantastic degree. I remember when I was a kid, there was one year the big toy store in town had a gorgeous dollhouse on display that I wanted more than anything else, and any time I misbehaved even slightly my dad would threaten to tell Santa.”

“Santa?” Yuta asks, lowering his mouth to your shoulder, skin so warm where his cheek touches your neck. “Who is that?”

“A magical myth. He watches all the children of the world,” you explain, “And he brings presents to the good kids and punishes the bad.” 

Yuta makes a strange noise, lifting his head again. “So parents tell kids that there are men watching over you? Policing your behavior?”

“Just the one man. Well, Santa has his little elf helpers as well as mall Santas and parents to spy on kids. But it’s all fake. He’s not real, and he’s probably an allegory for God or something. Parents, family, kind-hearted neighbors are really the ones the presents come from.” 

Still, when you twist away from Yuta to look at him over your shoulder, his eyebrows are furrowed a little. 

“What?” You laugh, lifting a hand to smooth the lines between his eyebrows. Yuta just shakes his head and takes your hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “Are you trying to figure out if you’d be on the naughty or nice list?”

At that, Yuta cracks a smile. “Well that depends, my love. Which list would land me with you as my gift?”

You shriek with laughter as Yuta leans in to attack your throat with kisses, wrapping his arms around your waist to draw your back against his chest again. 

Your hand drops to the side, your mug of warm tea falling and cracking, spilling across the balcony floor, completely forgotten as Yuta peels the edges of your fluffy robe away, unwrapping you like his present. He takes his time in kissing your shoulders and your back as every new inch of skin is exposed. The robe slips from your shoulders and down your arms, the chill of the breezy day is irrelevant when all you can feel is Yuta’s lips and his hands as he spreads your legs to brush his fingers between your thighs, all gentle and teasing. 

A shiver runs down your spine that has nothing to do with the chill but rather with the way that Yuta’s tongue darts out to trace the shell of your ear, the way his teeth graze your ear lobe. And then there’s his voice as he sinks his touch into your heated core. “I think you’ve landed on the naughty list, if we’re being honest,” Yuta says, his voice low, and he continues, “For numerous reasons. Letting me do this right now. For being here in this city. Mostly for the relationship you have with Ten and I, letting your base urges overwhelm you with lust.”

You can’t argue with that. All you can do is melt into his touch, moaning softly as he thumbs at your clit and slowly strokes two of his fingers inside you.

The robe pools around your waist and Yuta’s lap, leaving your chest fully bared to the hazy orange glow of Hell City. 

Never, in your old life, would you have done something like this. Out in the open where anyone in a building across from you could look up or down or directly over and see you like this. But Yuta and Ten have both brought out the side of you that never would have seen the light of day in your old life.

Because never once, when you were still a good Church-going girl, had you ever sat on a balcony getting fingered to orgasm by your partner. Never had you felt the cool lick of wind on your skin while feeling the hot press of a mouth to your throat, fingers sticky with your cum sliding over your belly and up to your tits. Never had you slid off your partner’s lap and knelt naked on the floor of a balcony between his spread legs while he looked down at you in a way that could be described as nothing less than devilishly handsome.

Yuta’s fingers, still damp with your wetness, nudge beneath your chin. His thumb drags at your bottom lip. “Gonna suck me off, pretty girl?”

You don’t nod or answer in any way other than to reach for the zip of Yuta’s pants. He only smiles, eyes burning with satisfaction as you pull his cock out into the daylight. Yuta relaxes back into the chair, watching you as you start working your hand over his length. You know he’s watching, but you’re not looking at his face; you’re too busy focusing on how quickly his cock is filling out in your hand, how the pink tip is already weeping a shiny droplet. And when you can’t take it any longer, you finally lean in and place a kiss to the tip, swiping your tongue along the slit of his cock.

Yuta hums, pleased, his fingers knotting through your hair as you part your lips and take him in. 

Losing yourself in the taste of Yuta is always easy. The way that he curls his hands in your hair, the sounds he makes low in his throat, the eager way that Yuta can’t quite keep still and succumbs to the urge to buck his hips off the seat to drive deeper into your throat.  You like the way his hips twitch when you kiss down the length of his cock and suck a mark on his inner thigh, or when his hands tug a little too hard at your hair because you’ve just swallowed his cock all the way to the base. 

“Oh, my love,” Yuta groans. He traces a thumb around your lips where they’re stretched around his cock. “You’re so pretty like this, just a sweet girl sucking me off. Gonna make me cum too soon, if you’re not careful, and then what satisfaction will you get from all this, hmm?”

You don’t want that. Not right now. Where’s the fun in just letting Yuta cum? You want to feel him inside you, out here in the open on the balcony. 

As you pull yourself up and clamber into his lap, Yuta snickers, his nose crinkling up and he wraps his arms around you. 

“Needy baby,” he teases.

“You’re needy,” you retort, but your hands are already stroking his cock, you’re already adjusting yourself into his lap to make it easier for you to just sit right on his cock. You slowly sink down, and Yuta’s head rolls back, a lazy grin spreading on his lips as he feels you wet and soft around him. His hands settle on your hips, urging you to move. You press your fingertips against his chest. “See? Needy. Needy for my pussy, Yuta?”

He laughs. “Always.”

Yuta lets you be on top a lot of the time when you’re with him. You think he must just like seeing you at this angle, or maybe it’s that he likes how blissed out you get on taking it at your own pace. Or it could very well be that he just likes how your tits move or feel pressed against his chest when you ride him. Either way, he drags your mouth to his now, content to let you ride him at your own pace.

You’re desperate enough for it that you're moving pretty quickly, bouncing in his lap with your nails clawing at Yuta’s shoulders. His hands slide from your hips up your sides, one rests against your belly, applying a little pressure, and his thumb extends down to leave light, teasing circles on your clit. 

“Fuck,” Yuta moans against your lips. “You’re lucky that demon seed takes hold so rarely, with how much Ten and I fuck you, your belly should be swollen by now.” His hand presses a little more intently on your belly. 

An unintentional whimper falls from your lips at the thought. It’s like the night you first met WinWin, and Yuta had mentioned werewolves almost always knocking up their partners. In the moment, you’d found that a turn on even though pregnancy was absolutely not something you were necessarily planning on experiencing any time soon. And again, now, as Yuta mentions you with a swollen belly, carrying a demon brood in your womb, you find your pulse quickening, and a new wave of arousal takes over. 

“You like that?” Yuta pulls back, and his hand that isn’t against your belly drifts to your chest just long enough to tweak a nipple before his hand is curling at the base of your throat. Loosely at first, but when you slowly open your eyes to meet his gaze, Yuta’s grip squeezes slightly. Another curl of lust in the ever-tightening knot of your arousal. Your heart pounds. 

This shouldn’t be something you like this much. But you can’t deny that as Yuta begins to lightly choke you and rub circles on your clit while he talks to you about how fucking pretty you’d look with your belly swollen from he and Ten, you start to fuck yourself on his cock a little more desperately. Just the idea of it is so incredibly hot to you for some inexplicable reason. 

His hand curls a little tighter and you lean into it, your hips moving in circles and rocking forward against the sweet friction of Yuta’s thumb on your clit. 

“You’re definitely on the naughty list,” Yuta says, pulling your face closer to his by his grip on your neck. His lips meet your ear, voice jaunty as he says, “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Cum for me and maybe I’ll just lean you back against that railing there, lift you up so I can clean you up. Or maybe I should let you ride my face,” Yuta says, his hand leaving your throat to snap against your ass. “Bet you’d fucking love that wouldn’t you? Getting to ride my face while I eat you out, licking up all that cum I put in you?” 

You moan, your eyes rolling back as you feel your orgasm so close, nearly within reach. 

“Next time I share you with Ten,” Yuta says, “I’m gonna sit you on my face and not let you up until you’ve made Ten cum across your perfect lips while you ride my tongue, how’s that sound?”

All you can do is moan and fight the urge to immediately burst into flame.

You’re so fucking close. Your belly is tight, your hips slipping out of rhythm. Your orgasm is just there, right there with your flames itching just barely contained beneath your skin. 

“Hello?” A voice suddenly breaks through the pleasure, the sound carrying out through the open doorway of the balcony. 

“Shit!” You moan, immediately trying to push yourself free of Yuta’s lap, but he’s holding tight. 

You’re only capable of bending down and dragging your robe up from the ground, only just able to pull it back up over you. You manage to cover yourself up just in time to hear footsteps approaching the balcony door.

 Yuta laughs, pressing his lips to your shoulder, but still not letting you up. 

WinWin appears, peering out the open balcony door, looking first out at the view, and then he spots you sitting to the left of the door. You thank… someone out there (God, maybe?) that the curtains were still mostly drawn over the window, so WinWin hadn’t been able to see the two of you until just now. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, offering up a loose, easy grin.

You’re brutally aware of Yuta’s cock inside you. The way you’re sitting isn’t exactly super obvious as to say you’re doing, and especially with the robe covering you up, there’s no way that WinWin can tell. But when you notice his nostrils flare and his gaze narrows slightly, you almost wonder if he somehow does know. 

Your pussy pulses anew with that thought. 

You drop your head forward against Yuta’s shoulder on the side away from WinWin. The werewolf can’t see the way that you bite down on Yuta's shoulder. As you pray that if he notices the way that you rock your hips, he doesn’t think too much of it. 

“Uh, didn’t we have plans today?” WinWin asks. 

Shit, that’s right. You forgot you and WinWin were going to a shop a witchy friend of his had mentioned when you were introduced. 

You sit up, biting your lip now as you look over at WinWin. “I forgot,” you gasp, and you wonder if you look at all feverish, if the heat in your belly is showing outwardly. The struggle to not openly rock yourself on Yuta’s cock is serious right then. You don’t care that WinWin is looking right at you. You don’t care, not really, but at the same time the thought turns you on more than ever. 

WinWin blinks at you, glancing briefly at Yuta. “If you forgot, we can reschedule. Or I could, uh, come back later.”

“No, don’t go!” You involuntarily (to some degree) slip up and roll your hips. Yuta, unhelpfully, still has his thumb on your clit, like a little happy button that makes your insides go a little too fuzzy and your mind all melty.

Yuta’s eyes flash curiously, watching you closely. As if he expects to see you cum for him right then, but you manage to get yourself under control again. Without looking away from you, Yuta addresses the werewolf in the room, “Yeah, stay, WinWin. We’ll be there in a second.”

You know that you’ve got a careful hold on your flames, but still, you feel like you’re burning up right now. As soon as WinWin walks back inside, closing the balcony door hard enough that the whole wall of windows rattles, you move to quickly climb off of Yuta’s lap, but his hands on your hips beneath the robe hold a little tighter, keeping you right where you are, still seated on his cock.

Yuta cocks his head to the side a little. There’s something animalistic in his gaze. “Was it being caught that you liked?” He pinches your clit between his fingers. “Or the one that caught us?”

Not that you have the ability to answer in that second. 

Your world explodes in a fantastic burst of colors. A supernova of feelings and fire that flickers around you and off your skin. Your orgasm sears through you, and Yuta urges it on with that finger on your clit and his arm suddenly tight around your waist that he uses to keep you moving on his cock. 

You’re still mid-orgasm when Yuta follows. He drags your mouth to his, kissing you passionately through the intense throes of ecstasy. 

You long to bask in the afterglow — almost literally, your flames take a little bit to die down — but you know WinWin is waiting. Still. You allow yourself a moment, getting your flames back under control, and you tuck your face into the warm curve between Yuta’s neck and shoulder. 

“So,” Yuta says quietly. “It was the fact that WinWin caught us, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you mumble, refusing to lift your face from the crook of his neck. 

“I think we definitely should.” Yuta combs his fingers through your hair. “After what just happened, and after how into that roleplay we did—“

You lift your head to glare at him. “We don’t talk about that.”

“No, but maybe we should.” 

He could be right. But right now? When the man in question is waiting for you inside the apartment, only a few feet away. 

“Later,” Yuta says, and he dips in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Not right now, my love, but later.”

You nod. Later you can talk about it, but for now you have to do a miniature walk of shame through your apartment to the bathroom.

Days later find you gathered in the apartment with your two demons and the other two members of your group. The orange haze of Hell City’s sky has taken on a gray, somewhat faded quality today in addition to the growing chill in the air. But inside the apartment, you’ve manifested a warm, festive atmosphere.

Christmas in Hell City.

Yuta begrudgingly helps you hang Christmas lights around the apartment. Ten delights in helping you hang ornaments on a Christmas tree. Both of them had been surprised when you climbed out of bed earlier and began manifesting a whole variety of Christmas items, declaring that Mark and WinWin were coming over this evening and you were celebrating Christmas all together like a little family. You do your best to recreate the Christmassy festive atmosphere that you remember from childhood, complete with unmelting snow that you manifest to cover your balcony. 

“Snow?” Ten asks when he sees it appearing in fluffy white mounds outside the windows. “You’re manifesting snow right now?”

Yuta folds his arms across his chest, stepping down from the ladder he’d been on to hang the lights around the room. He steps up beside Ten to look out at the snow too. You wonder if this city ever sees weather like this. If there’s ever rain or snow or sleet or ice, incredibly windy days, or hot days of summer when the heat just sits as thick and humid. Judging by the way both of them are looking out at the snow, you think they probably don’t get to see much of the weather.

“For me, Christmas needs snow.” You go back to hanging ornaments on the tree. “And besides, when I was talking to Mark about Christmas, he told me he wants to build a snowman. We have to have snow for that.”

Mark had seemed excited to celebrate Christmas when you first brought it up to him the previous day. 

Recently, you’d been spending more time with him, trying to avoid both of the demons and the conversation that they clearly wanted to have that you absolutely did not want to have right now. At some point after WinWin walked out onto the balcony while you and Yuta were having sex, Yuta had talked to Ten, telling him about the way you’d reacted. You hadn’t taken part in that conversation, but it was very obvious to you that it had happened. You didn’t want to know how it had gone. 

You’d decided that even though WinWin had admitted his feelings to you, you were happy with your present situation. Two partners was already enough for you. On top of that, Ten was incredibly jealous, and Yuta was also known to display jealousies from time to time. So no matter how that conversation between them went, you didn’t care what the result was. Yes, you still found WinWin attractive, and, yes, there were still snippets of dreams featuring him. But you weren’t going to act on it, so it didn’t matter what they thought. Still, you didn’t want to have that talk. 

Mark had been plenty happy to accept your company. Hanging out with him meant that you were there for boring coven meetings, but also for more interesting things like hanging out with the other vampires in his coven or when you’d gone up to the brunch spot that Mark ran – Heaven’s Nest – and gotten drunk together. That’s when the invitation to Christmas had come spilling out, the idea born up there among the hazy clouds of Hell City between Bloody Sunrises and unbloody mimosas. 

“Maybe he should be here helping set up,” Yuta says, turning away from the snow. “Or he can clean up. When is he going to be here?” He eyes all the lights and other decorations you’ve put up over the last few hours. 

“And when is WinWin coming over?” Ten asks, his voice suddenly stilted, not looking at you. 

You hang the last ornament on the tree, and with a meager amount of concentration, you manifest fully wrapped presents beneath the tree for each of them. “Soon. They should both be here soon. I promised dinner, so we should probably start working on that too.” 

You’ve done your best to keep both of them preoccupied, too busy to even attempt to broach the subject of your obvious physical reaction to WinWin catching you with Yuta. But as you attempt to walk by Yuta to reach the kitchen, his hand shoots out, taking your arm. His touch is gentle, but still you stop and turn to look at him.

“Dinner can just be manifested. You don’t have to actually cook.” His gaze drops briefly to your lips, and you watch the way that Yuta’s throat bobs. “Then we can talk before they show up. All three of us need to talk.”

You pull away from Yuta. “I don’t think we really do need to talk.”

Ten sighs from somewhere behind you. “Don’t be difficult, darling.”

“Can’t you tell that I really don’t want to talk about whatever.” You hurry over to the kitchen, but both of the demons possess a speed that you don’t, and they both somehow beat you there. Ten wraps you in the cage of his arms, a cheeky smile appearing when you hiss a curse at him, but he only holds you tighter. “Let me go.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Ten’s fingers curl around your wrists, pinning them both to your lower back. “See, when I’ve got you like this, you’re not going anywhere. You have to listen to us talk.” Yuta stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Ten, and you hate the presented front of solidarity and determination to have this conversation.

Fate, it seems, is on your side.

There’s a knock on the door of the apartment, and a moment later, it opens to allow in Mark and WinWin together. Both the vampire and the werewolf stare unblinking at the position you’re in. Yuta steps away, but Ten doesn’t let go, he doesn’t look away from you. 

He holds your gaze, and in a low voice that borders on sexy and threatening, he says, “Either you can vow that we’ll talk later after they’re gone, or we can have this conversation right now with both of them listening. And I don’t think you want that, do you?”

You squirm. There’s no way out of this. “I promise we’ll talk later after they leave.”

Ten smiles and says, “Perfect.”

As soon as he loosens his arms from around you, Ten gently brings your arms around front, and he lifts your wrists to his lips. “Look, I’m sorry about that.” His lips are warm and tender on your wrists that still feel his fingers like shackles around them. “But I think it’s important, and you avoiding it isn’t going to make the need to talk go away.”

“I know.” Because, as much as you don’t want to talk, you know that it’s important. You need to make it clear to both of them that you don’t have any intention of allowing anything to happen with WinWin. You need to give them the chance to communicate to you what they think about it. 

You lean in, looping your arms over Ten’s shoulders, pecking him quickly on the lips. “Let’s get to Christmas.”

Mark and WinWin ignore the odd mood they walked into. 

Mark brought presents, and he adds those to the ones you’ve got beneath the tree already. WinWin didn’t realize presents were a thing to be brought to Christmas, which begins a conversation about how neither he nor the demons have any experience with Christmas. But you and Mark, who lived human lives in the human world before coming here, had that experience. 

You all sit around the table first, enjoying the quickly manifested dinner. After that is you and Mark getting everyone out onto the small balcony to make snowmen, which just turns into a snowball fight when Ten lobs a densely packed snowball right at WinWin’s face. 

For a brief moment you think you’re about to witness WinWin transform for the first time, based on the pure look of annoyance he sends Ten, but Ten is shooting daggers right back at him. 

Unfortunately for WinWin, he doesn’t know why Ten is glaring at him so harshly. You hope he doesn’t notice that throughout the rest of the Christmas celebration, Ten and Yuta both watch him closely, particularly any time that he’s looking at or talking with you. 

You think both Ten and Yuta are about to burst out of their skins or explode into flame when WinWin pulls you in for a hug after he opens the gift from you. But WinWin probably notices because he holds onto you a little bit longer than actually necessary, and after you pull away, he does wink at you and tell you he’ll give you a present another time. 

Mark is potentially oblivious to all of that going on, just happy to be celebrating and spending time with all four of you. He’s excited to have you all open presents from him, which he proudly declares, “I bought them myself. They’re not just, like, manifested. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! But open them!”

You play games together, you eat some more. Mark bursts out into Christmas carols after a while. You turn on Christmas movies to play in the background, and all five of you just sit around and talk for a long time until Mark suddenly remembers his obligation to get to one of his coven’s ventures underground. WinWin makes an excuse to leave too, though you suspect it's just that he doesn’t want to be alone with you, Yuta, and Ten.

But once he’s gone, now it’s your turn to face them.

You still really don’t want to talk about it.

For a little while at least, the subject remains avoided.

The three of you clean up the mess of dinner and of unwrapping presents and the last remnants of the unmelting snow that had been tracked inside. Then the curtains are drawn over the balcony to make it darker inside the room, left illuminated at this point only by the TV which is stuck playing the menu screen of an old Christmas movie DVD. Ten sits down on one end of the sofa, Yuta takes the other end, and after a moment of dithering, you settle down in between them.

Ten fidgets with the remote for a moment. Switching through the different options on the DVD menu, changing the language of the movie’s audio. He skips through the different scenes, finally settling on one a quarter of the way into the movie, selecting it to start playing from there. The only thing is that the volume is so quiet, you can barely hear it and he put it in a language that you don’t know.

Yuta clears his throat.

“So are we going to talk about it now?” 

Ten straightens up in his seat and turns sideways, drawing his feet onto the cushion and his knees up to his chest. “Yes. Let’s talk about how you want WinWin to fuck you.”

“Oh my God,” you groan, dropping your face into your hands. “I would like to point out that I haven’t said that.”

“But you haven’t not said it,” Ten argues back. 

“Do I have to tell you every person that I don’t want to fuck Ten?” You fold your arms across your chest to stare at him. “Because we’ll be here for a very, very long time if that’s the case.”

Ten rolls his eyes, and you look over at Yuta who just sighs. “Ten, you said you were going to be mature and open-minded about this conversation. Remember?” After a moment with no response, Yuta prods again, “Remember?”

“Yeah.” Ten grunts. “I remember.”

“My love,” Yuta says as he takes your hand. “How do you feel?”

You squirm, uncomfortable. Emotions aren’t really all that big of a subject of conversation between the three of you. Especially not with both of them only focusing on you and your answer. Yuta continues to hold your hand, and Ten stretches one of his feet over the few inches between you and him to just have the small point of contact where his toes curl against the side of your leg. 

“I’m not a cheater,” are the first words you manage after a few quiet moments. “I’m, like, attracted to him, but the same is true with Mark, if we’re being honest. WinWin, Mark, Hansol from back home.” Ten all but growls, and when you look at him his eyes are narrowed yellow cat eyes. You continue regardless, “There are a lot of people I think are attractive in this place; you’ve all got this supernatural beauty that makes you very attractive. But I don’t feel the same about any of them as I do with you two. So I don’t get why you’re so jealous about it, Ten, or why you think we need to talk about it so much, Yuta. I’m only doing this with you two, which already is a stretch from normal for me. But being with you two together has been this way from the start, sharing everything between you two. I’m not just going to bring someone else into this, especially not someone that you clearly don’t like, Ten.”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” Trn quickly clarifies. “WinWin is nice. He’s good. But he’s been trying to fuck you since you first met him, and he’s a werewolf.”

“And you’re a demon! Get over your prejudices, dumb ass.” You push off the sofa, standing and turning to look at the two of them. Yuta watches you calmly, curious. Ten’s eyes are hot, his jaw clenched. “I don’t care that he’s a werewolf. I don’t care that you two are demons or that Mark’s a vampire or that anyone I’ve met here in Hell City is something that a few short months ago I never would have believed existed. I got over all of my deeply ingrained prejudices, so when will you?

“And, about how he’s wanted to fuck me from the start? I will admit to you that I’ve thought about him many times since the night I first met him. When I was back in my hometown, all I did was dream about the two of you, him, and even Mark.” You’ll admit that now, in the sake of full honesty. “I dreamed of having sex with all of you, and even when I was fucking Hansol —“ Now both of them bare their teeth in disgusted anger. “—Even then I thought of the four of you. I can’t help who I’m attracted to. I can’t help it that when he walked out there and caught me and Yuta together, I found it hot. But I’m not just going to go fuck WinWin behind your back, so stop being a jealous dick about it!” 

“Where are you going?” Ten calls from the sofa. 

“Out!” Shoes manifest right onto your feet, a jacket onto your shoulders. The apartment door slams shut behind you   

You’re at the lift, jamming your finger against the button when you hear the door open and close behind you. And then Yuta’s soft, careful voice. “Can I come with you?”

“No. I want to be alone.” You jab your finger against the button and hold it there, as if that’s going to make the rickety lift rise any faster. You can hear its rattles echoing up through the floors beneath you now. “Just let me be alone, Yuta. Please.”

“You know I don’t mind, right?” He says to fill the silence while he waits with you. “About WinWin? Like, the roleplay, which, I know, we don’t talk about, but let’s just pretend for a moment that we do talk about it.” You glance sidelong at him, and he cracks a grin. “I’m open to anything. I’ve shared you with Ten, I’ve fucked you while wearing the look of a different man. Pretty girl, you’re the best thing that’s happened to Ten and I in a long time. I’m not going to let something little like this mess that up. But Ten, he’s scared, not that he’ll let you see it. Scared that you’ll disappear, so he holds on tighter, scared to let you go for fear that you won’t come back.” 

As the lift finally comes rattling and shaking to a stop in front of you, you look over at Yuta. “Well, he can’t hold on too tightly. I’ll suffocate.”

Yuta nods. “I know.”

“Talk to him.” You say as you step inside and reach for the sliding gate. “I feel like he’ll listen to you if you just explain to him that I’m here for both of you. I came here with you and because of you, I stayed for you when WinWin made me want to leave, and the intensity of my feelings for just you and him are what scared me away. But I came back for him, for you. I only wanted you two, and I made him promise when we were waiting for you to come back and save the day that he wouldn’t leave me alone. Does he think I’ve said anything like that to WinWin or anyone else? I’m here for you two. I love you two.”

The words feel electric on your tongue. Your heart beats double time. You’ve never said that before. Those three words. Not to Ten, not to Yuta. And you can see from the slowly growing smile and the light in his eyes, that Yuta is surprised and excited to hear them from you. 

Before anything more can be said, the lift is moving, dropping you a lot faster than it had risen. But when you look up, you can see through the ceiling of this contraption Yuta leaning out into the shaft, watching you go. 

You love them. 

Both of them. 

Once you’re out in the street you’re not entirely sure where to go. You don’t want to go to the underground. You’re not feeling particularly social at the moment. You just needed to be away from all that going on up there. 

If you look up at your building, if you squint and look really hard, you think you can see which balcony is yours. You can see the fake snow piled on it, and even a few large icicles dripping over the edge of it. Maybe it’s wishful thinking or delusion, but you might even see Ten up there leaning against the railing to look down. 

You walk away. Not toward the city center, and not toward the entrance to the underground city. You wander wherever your feet take you. 

You haven’t wandered the streets of Hell City alone very often. Only on a few rare occasions, usually when you were meeting either of the demons or Mark or WinWin somewhere else. But right now, there’s no destination, there’s no one waiting for you anywhere except right back there in the apartment. 

You sigh. 

You love Ten. So much that it makes your heart ache. But he can be so… annoying, for lack of a better word. His jealousy when all you’ve done is shown him and Yuta affection and love. When you’ve opened yourself up with him and drawn a bond between you that you’ve never had with anyone else, not even Yuta, if you’re being honest. How can he not see it?

You hope Yuta’s talking to him, trying to help him see the light of reason. 

As you walk down the streets, passing storefronts and restaurants, passing clusters of supernatural creatures who choose to spend their time above ground rather than below, you just think. You barely register your surroundings, which leads to you nearly trampling over a young Nagi that slithers across your path. 

After a little while though you finally come to a quiet square in the northern part of the city. It reminds you of the section of your hometown that’s been around since the 1800s with narrow cobbled streets and gas lamps. The fog that has settled over this part of the city helps give it a timeless kind of vibe, muting even the usual orange out of the sky. A fountain sits in the middle of the square, crowned by a statue swathed in the dense fog. 

You wander toward the fountain, looking around at this quiet little pocket of the city. The buildings lining the square look old too, and light glows through their square windows. One door opens and shuts, letting out a beam of light that gets muddled through the fog. You sit on the edge of the fountain, and you just breathe, feeling a knot loosen in your chest. 

The fountain trickles and tinkles behind you, small ripples moving across the dark surface of the pool at its base. You trail your fingers across the surface, catching a glimpse of coins sparkling on the bottom. A wishing fountain. 

“I wish that we could all just get along,” you murmur. But you don’t have a coin on you to drop in, and you’ve never believed in wishing fountains anyway. Even now they don’t seem plausible. 

Footsteps echo across the foggy square, and you lift your head to look around. Someone carrying a lantern passes at the far end of the square, slipping back through the door someone had exited through earlier. 

You feel a sudden chill. 

This square is very quiet. The fog gives it an ominous feeling. And the fountain water, you suddenly realize, is bitterly cold and strange, freezing your fingertips and almost sucking at them, magnetically drawing you to sink the rest of your hand in. 

You stand, shaking your hand and then attempting to dry it on your coat. 

You no longer want to be by yourself. 

Pacing back through the streets, you hope you can find your way home. You’ve never been on these streets this far north by yourself before, and they’re winding and narrow, getting you all turned around, and the fog doesn’t help. It blocks the view of the tall buildings closer to downtown, making it even more difficult to navigate. 

And maybe it’s the fog, maybe it’s the way that you’ve never seen Hell City in such a dim, blurry way, but there’s a lurch of panic in your belly. A sense of urgency to get back home to your apartment. The oddest feeling like you’re being watched. 

The logical, unpanicked side of you tells you that it’s probably Yuta. He probably disregarded your request to leave you alone, and he’s probably been following you to keep an eye on you. Or you could just be imagining the feeling of eyes on you, the sense that there’s someone prowling through the fog behind you. 

You’re not running, but your heart is racing and you’re walking more quickly than normal. 

The winding streets finally spit you out onto a main street, wide and open, populated. There is still a gray fog hovering over the street, but you disregard it as you hurry along the sidewalk, brushing by a variety of Hell City’s citizens. There’s still the lingering feeling of being watched, and it grows more intense to the point where your breath is coming fast and your spine feels stiff, panic knotting your muscles and making your mind swirl as you look for the offshoring street that will lead you back to your apartment. 

In your semi-blind panic, you run headlong into someone. 

“I’m so sorry!” You apologize, turning quickly to look behind you. 

There are plenty of people milling along the sidewalk. None look particularly like they’re watching or following you. No one looks suspicious at all really. 

“Are you okay?” 

There’s a hand on your shoulder, a familiar voice ringing in your ears. 

WinWin. 

You twist around to face him. 

“Where were you running to?” WinWin asks, glancing behind you too. “Or what were you running away from? Are you hurt?”

There’s a damp spot on the front of his shirt, and when WinWin lifts his hand from your shoulder to your cheek, you realize you’ve been crying. 

You take a step back, wiping at your cheeks. 

“Where are Ten and Yuta?” WinWin asks, and he reaches again for you, but he draws his hand back when you lean away. “Did something happen?”

“We argued a little bit after you and Mark left. I wanted to get out of the apartment, so I was wandering around. I just… got a little lost and freaked myself out a bit.” You suck in a deep breath, trying to steady the shaky beating of your heart. “Thought someone was following me.”

WinWin’s eyes narrow, nostrils flaring, and he lifts his gaze from your face to scan the city street behind you. “I can walk you home. Would that be okay?” 

You want to say yes and you want to say no. Yes, it would make you feel better. No, because imagine if after fighting with Ten about WinWin, you show back up at the apartment accompanied or at least smelling like WinWin. That will solve nothing. Plus, a slightly paranoid voice in the back of your mind whispers how strange it is that you bumped into WinWin like this, that he appeared right as you felt the intensity of being watched was at its highest. Maybe it’s nothing. Probably it’s nothing, just a coincidence, but you shouldn’t be around him right now anyway. 

“No.” You shake your head, taking a wide step around WinWin. “I know the way from here.”

He sighs, a little defeated, then says, “Plus, Ten would be jealous, right?” 

You freeze. 

“I’m not blind. I know he’s jealous. I saw the way he was with me all day. Yuta’s only slightly better. Did you tell them how I feel about you?” He asks, and he keeps that distance of a couple feet between you, which you’re grateful for. “Is that why I suddenly feel like I’m getting the cold shoulder? I’m not, like, gonna make a move on you, if that’s what you or they are worried about. I respect them. I respect you. I’m not just a fucking dog.” He runs a hand down the side of his face, then looks around the street. “I know you’re with them, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize your relationship or your happiness with them.”

“I’ll make sure they know that,” you say softly. “I’ll see you around, WinWin. But I’d better get home.”

“Be safe.”

Five minutes later, you’re riding the lift up through your building. The lingering feeling of being watched had continued up until you reached your building, and you settle on the idea that it’s a combination of paranoia brought on by the fog and of WinWin probably kindly trailing you to make sure you made it home safely. 

Yuta and Ten are still sitting on the sofa, facing each other and speaking in low voices when you step inside. They break off as you walk over, and Ten makes a small sound of surprise when you just clamber into his lap, and wrap your arms around him. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, tucking your face against his shoulder. 

Ten holds you just as tightly, pressing his nose into your hair. “I’m sorry, darling. I am a jealous ass, and I’m going to do my best to let it go. I trust you. It’s him I don’t trust, but, Yuta and I have talked about a lot while you were gone. I’m working on it.”

You can accept that. 

“Aw,” Yuta coos, getting up on his knees to come closer and wrap both of you in a hug, his chin resting atop Ten’s head as he says, “Look at all of us getting along.”

The cool bite beginning to take up residence in the air outside grows over the next week or so. It feels more like the memory of cold than the actual feeling of it, but it’s undeniable. Like winter is truly setting in. 

The thaw between Ten and WinWin has however begun to take effect. 

More and more over the last week, your little family has been spending time together in your apartment. This has given Ten and WinWin plenty of time to warm up to each other, and although it’s only been a few days, you would definitely say that they appear more friendly now than they have in weeks. It could be the semi-forced proximity, but you choose to think that it’s actual progress. 

The unnatural cold of Hell City has driven many of the citizens underground, increasing Mark’s profits for his various businesses, including a hot spring where he’d met up with you, Yuta, and Ten yesterday. But today he’s shirking his responsibilities as coven leader and mogul of Hell City, and he (along with WinWin) are here in your apartment to relax. 

“I’m cold.” You complain as you wrap yourself in a blanket and settle onto your sofa. “It’s a good thing, you guys run so warm.”

Ten opens his arms for you to snuggle into, letting you sink in and make yourself comfortable against his chest. Ten, in turn, wraps himself around you, blanketing you in his heat. He waits until you’re settled, and then says, “Maybe if you were wearing more clothes, you wouldn’t be so cold.”

You’re dressed comfortably. Maybe it’s not entirely appropriate wear for when you have guests over, but an oversized shirt and your panties and some fuzzy socks are just what you’d put on when you emerged from a nice, steamy shower earlier. It’s not your fault that guests showed up afterwards. 

Ten’s hand dips beneath your blanket to run his hand up your bare thigh. 

Mark watches from the other end of the sofa, his gaze torn away from the game he, Yuta, and WinWin had been playing. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, and before you can get a good read on it (or make an attempt to read his thoughts, because as it turns out, that is a demon trick you’ve been receiving lessons on for the week), Mark clears his throat. 

“I wish I ran warm.” His gaze darts over the points of contact Ten has with you. “Being undead really fucking sucks sometimes.”

WinWin makes a sound of disagreement from where he’s stretched out on his belly on the floor, his chin resting on his hands. “I run way too hot sometimes. Like, right now, I’m burning up.” 

He is. You can see from here the way his hairline has dampened to his skin. He’s sweating. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, sitting up a little bit, though Ten keeps his arms locked around your hips. “Not sick, right?”

“Wolves don’t get sick,” Yuta explains, studying the game in front of him. 

WinWin shakes his head. “I’m fine. I, just, uh, think my rut is coming up.” His face colors slightly, and he looks down at the floor, refusing to look up when the others start teasing him. 

You retreat to your spot leaning against Ten’s chest. 

His rut? You read about it in the supernatural encyclopedia. Much like actual wolves and other wildlife, werewolves experience heats and ruts—the overwhelming urge to breed or be bred. For WinWin, as a male, his will be the urge to breed, endlessly horny for anywhere from hours to days, needing to cum as many times as possible. 

You don’t even realize how deep into your thoughts about it you’ve sunk until Ten brushes a finger over your cheek. 

“Well, you’re certainly warm now, darling.” Ten teases, “What are you thinking about?”

You can’t tell him you’re thinking about WinWin, picturing him looking the same as Yuta-as-WinWin had looked when he orgasmed during your shape-shifting roleplay. As far as you’re aware, Ten still doesn’t know about that. Yuta has kept it just a secret between you and him. You can’t admit aloud to the room that that was a roleplay you and Yuta engaged in, and especially you won’t tell them that you’re growing aroused right now just thinking of it. 

It’s like the night you met WinWin, the night Yuta claimed wolves only want to breed and knock up women with a whole litter of wolf pups. It had turned you on a little back then, it had turned you on the other day when Yuta mentioned it while you were riding him, but now the thought of it is working you up even more. Your imagination is moving into hyperdrive, steering you right into the depths of a fantasy involving WinWin fucking you six ways from Sunday, in every possible position and configuration until you’re both exhausted and his rut has ended.

But you definitely don’t say any of that. 

“Nothing.” You brush Ten’s hand away, and you sit up. “I’m just getting warm, that's all.”

You move away from Ten, kicking off your blanket, and avoiding looking down at WinWin. But as the blanket falls to the floor beside WinWin’s head, as you drop your feet to the floor as well, WinWin’s head shoots up from where he’s been resting. 

He looks right at you. He cocks his head to the side. 

Everyone notices at once that WinWin’s eyes are changing fast from his human-brown to the wolf-yellow. 

“Fuck,” WinWin growls, squeezing his eyes shut and dropping his head back to his hands. You watch as he bites at the back of his hand for a moment before he’s pushing up to his knees, struggling to his feet. “I need to leave.”

When he gets to his feet, when you see the prominent bulge of his erection in the front of his pants, you feel another surge of arousal. 

“What? Now?” Ten teases. “Dude, I thought you just said your rut was soon, not like right now. How’re you gonna come over here knowing that you’re about to need to lock yourself away, horny doggy?”

WinWin growls, the sound a genuinely animalistic sound. “It triggered early. It’s not my fault.”

“Triggered early?” Ten continues to tease. “How does that happen?”

WinWin prowls forward until he’s standing right in front of you and Ten. “It happens because your girlfriend is turned on right now, and I can smell her like she’s the wettest, most breedable bitch in a ten mile radius.”

You squeeze your legs together and try not to whimper. This. This is exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid. 

On the floor, Yuta leans back on his hands, looking up at the drama, an amused look on his face. 

“Horny, baby girl?” Yuta calls. “Thinking about WinWin? About how good he could knot you and breed you? I know you’re into that.”

Your face feels hot, being called out like that. You glance at Ten to see him watching you, looking curious. You bite your lip, unable to deny Yuta’s accusatory question because you’re actually dripping wet right now. It’s come over you so quickly, getting worse the longer WinWin stands here right in front of you. 

“Ten?” Your voice is a whimper, and you can’t help it. 

“Yes, darling?”

You search his face for any of those tell-tale signs of his jealousy. You’re relieved to find, miraculously, none. 

And then WinWin touches his fingers beneath your chin, tipping your head so he can see your face. 

“Are you actually into that? Being knotted and bred?” WinWin teases you. 

Mark scrambles from his spot on the end of the sofa. “I’m gonna go ahead and leave, whatever’s happening here.”

“What, you don’t want to stay and watch? His wolf rut pheromones are gonna put all of us in the mood!” Ten jokes as Mark all but flies from the apartment, calling out his goodbyes over his shoulder. As the apartment door slams shut behind Mark’s fleeing back, Ten laughs. “He really needs to get laid; it’s not good to keep it all pent up like this.” 

WinWin’s still holding your chin, his thumb sweeping over your bottom lip. “I’m sorry. If I’d known it was going to trigger, I wouldn’t have come over. Ten’s right. My pheromones are what’s probably hitting you so hard right now.” 

Is it? You had aroused yourself with the fantasies that came to mind as soon as his rut was mentioned. But you have to admit that the way your body is reacting right now, how hot and wet you suddenly feel, that is out of the ordinary. Could it be that WinWin is putting off some wolfy rut scent that is affecting you? 

“I can still leave. I’ll hurry home and just get myself off until my rut ends.” But all you hear is the unspoken question: “Do you want me?” 

You can’t see either Ten or Yuta right now. All of your focus is on WinWin, the intoxicating heat of his skin against yours, the slick feeling growing between your legs. But Ten reaches over, touching your hand. 

“Do you want to help WinWin through his rut?” Ten asks, and he’s taking a softer tone with you, no longer joking about this whole situation.  

Is he actually asking, like offering it as an actual option to you? Because there’s no question in your mind right now that it’s what you want. Helping WinWin through his rut seems like the only thing you can possibly do right now in this sudden lust-drunk state you’re sinking into. 

You nod. “I really, really do. Please don’t be angry, Ten.” 

You feel guilty even saying it aloud. After all the progress of the last week, after the fight just before that, all of you and Yuta’s reassurances. And this is happening so quickly too. Just minutes ago everything was perfectly normal. Now the careful walls of restraint you’ve built are crumbling. 

You search Ten’s eyes again for any sign of anger. 

“He’s not angry, my love,” Yuta speaks up from his spot on the floor. “We discussed it. He’s just not used to sharing, but we can get used to it. Play nice with our friends and you. If he can share you with me, he can share you with WinWin, if that’s what you want.”

“I do want it,” you all but moan. 

You feel Ten pull himself off the sofa. “We’ll leave you to it, darling.”

“Are you sure about this?” WinWin asks. You’re not sure if he’s asking you or Ten. He flicks his gaze quickly towards Ten, back towards Yuta, and then he’s looking right at you again. 

He’s still got you by the chin, and you’re enchanted by the light in his eyes, prisoner to the hunger he’s awakened in you. “I want it, WinWin.” 

He nods and swallows, and you can see the way he’s controlling himself, holding back. His nose flares as he breathes you in again, tipping his face down towards you, losing his control bit by bit as more of your scent invades his senses. 

You can feel Yuta and Ten watching, but the hunger inside you reaches out for WinWin, pushing away all thoughts of anything but consuming him. 

At the same moment as you lurch forward, WinWin makes his final move. 

WinWin’s kiss is absolutely intoxicating, overwhelming, all-encompassing. The heat of his skin against yours, the unidentifiable scent radiating from him that just makes you want to pull him in closer and closer. 

So that’s what you do. 

The moment that his tongue touches yours, you feel a new heat pouring through you, and you need him now.

It’s all-consuming, deeper than just hunger or lust. This is an innate need that pulls you into WinWin, that draws his hands down to your bare thighs, pressing up beneath your shirt to your panties. It’s like he simply shreds them away; fingers catch at the sides of your panties and then the fabric falls away, exposing your pussy to the cool air. 

“Uh, yeah, we’re leaving,” Ten says. “If you need anything, just shout!”

The part of you that isn’t totally drowning in wolf rut (or this strange heat that’s come over you even though you’re not a werewolf), wants to ask Ten to stay. Yo I want to cling to him and let him feel involved in this so he doesn’t return to his all-consuming jealousy knowing that you’re doing exactly what you’d just told him you wouldn’t last week. 

But you can’t help it. Right now, the hunger you feel for WinWin is unchecked, running rampant through you as you cling to him and kiss him deeper. 

“We’ll check in on you later, my love,” Yuta sounds intensely amused as you and WinWin draw each other closer, as he climbs over you on the sofa and hikes your legs around his hips. “You need to stay hydrated, don’t forget that!”

They keep talking, you think, but you’re not even listening because at that moment, WinWin reaches down and unfastens the front of his pants. You feel the heat and the presence of his cock as soon as he releases it from his pants. You haven’t broken away from kissing WinWin yet, so you can’t see his cock, but you have a feeling that the version of it that Yuta wore when you roleplayed with him wasn’t quite a life-size representation.

WinWin feels big. Girthy, heavy, long. And when he pulls back from you, you finally get a glimpse of his dick.

“Oh my God,” you giggle. Hands over your mouth, full-on let out a little giggle. 

WinWin growls a little, his hands on your legs, pushing them up, folding your body in half until your knees are up at your shoulders. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head. “Not funny. Your dick is just really big.”

The kind of big that makes you feel like it should be impossible for your body to take it, but not quite as impossible as Yuta’s version. But your body also feels ready for him. Wet enough, loose enough, like just the pheromones he’s putting off have done enough to prepare you for him. You don’t know how to explain the feeling going on inside you right now, like something’s been triggered in you in response to him.

Another giggle forces its way out. 

To put it mildly, WinWin’s cock looks to be the width of your forearm. Wide enough around that your thumb and middle finger would only just barely miss touching each other if you tried to circle your hand around him. Long enough that you’re halfway expecting him to be hitting your cervix with each thrust. But he’s wet at the tip, a few prominent veins pulse along his length, and despite the rational part of your brain telling you that his cock is too fucking big, you want him inside you this moment.

There’s no holding back. 

You don’t want him to hold back, the way that your body craves right now nothing more than WinWin fucking you as fast and deep and hard as possible, cumming inside you like you’re his own personal cumdump. 

And you can tell that the last vestiges of WinWin’s control are slipping away, the animalistic urges taking over. His fingernails bite at your thighs, and he moves back over you, sinking his thick cock smoothly into your ready pussy.

There’s no intimacy or passion to this. It’s nothing more than hungry fucking, taking cock and feeling like he’s fucking the very breath from your lungs. You can’t catch your breath to moan. You can feel him in your belly. It’s all just a blur of lust and hungrily getting fucked, sucking in the pleasure as WinWin fucks you to cum.

He fucks you there on your back on the sofa, cumming inside you while you’re still folded up like a pretzel beneath him. He doesn’t pull out, but immediately picks up fucking you again, pulling you on top of him as he leans back. This time he pulls an orgasm from you, and he cums again before turning you around, bending you against the back of the sofa, fucking you so intensely still that you’re sweating–your bodies still together with the sweat and the stickiness of his semen leaking down your thighs. 

When you begin to slide over the back of the sofa from the force of his thrusts, WinWin holds tightly to your hips, repositioning you facedown on the sofa, holding your hips up at the perfect angle for him to thrust into. Again, he cums, stuffing you so full, and still you crave more from him.

WinWin pants and moans against your shoulder, shallowly thrusting, rivulets of his cum leak down your thighs onto the sofa. 

“Fuck,” WinWin groans, his teeth grazing your shoulder. He’s still pressing into you, still hard and feeding into your own endless lust. “I’m sorry, I’m still….”

You roll your hips back, silently hoping he’ll stay inside you, that he’ll plant himself so deep inside you that you won’t feel empty for a week. And you know what he needs too, what he’s not asking you for, what he keeps denying himself. 

“Just knot me,” you cry out, “You’re just letting it all leak out, WinWin.”

He pauses then, as if caught off guard by your request. He actually pulls back out of you, and you cry, trying to lift your hips and clench your pussy tight enough to hold his cum inside you. As WinWin sits back, his cock still heavy and standing tall, he stares at you. “I can’t knot you.”

But as you look back at him, you can see that he absolutely can knot you. He just doesn’t want to. 

You can see his knot swelling toward the base of his cock. This was what you’d read about in that book, learning about knotting right there alongside learning about werewolf ruts and heats. There’d been a diagram. And now you see it in front of your eyes: the swelling shape toward the base of his cock that would plug you up nicely and keep his cum inside you. 

WinWin shakes his head. “I can’t do it. You’re human, you’re not a werewolf. You’re not made to take knots, princess.”

“But I’m not just human either!” You whine, again shifting around trying to keep your hips elevated to keep his multiple loads of cum from leaking out of you, which leads to you looking back at him from under your arm. A very odd angle. 

“You’re basically human,” WinWin argues, his hand drifting down to massage his knot. “Yuta and Ten would probably actually kill me if I hurt you in any way, and I’m afraid that knotting you would just split you open.”

That’s a violent image, but you quickly brush it away. “I burst into flames when I have sex with them, I don’t think that’s something humans do. I can take it, WinWin. I know I can. I want it. You’ve got me all horny and feeling breedable, so I need you to knot me and stop wasting all this cum. Isn’t the whole point of your rut to cum in me, to breed me and knot me as many times as possible? I’m pretty sure I read that if you don’t knot a partner, your rut can—“

“Alright, shit, if I knot you will you stop talking?” WinWin moves quickly, suddenly fitting his cock back inside you. “God, dammit, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me. I promise.” 

You’ve been practicing your shapeshifting with Yuta. You’ve altered your appearance some, but as it turns out, the whole thing about perfectly mimicking others isn’t something that’s within your wheelhouse. But you’ve successfully made small adjustments to your appearance. Just a day or two ago you were messing around with shape-shifting while Ten and Yuta briefly had to go take care of some demon business, and when they returned they discovered you’d turned your nose into a miniature version of an elephant trunk, and you couldn’t turn it back without their help. 

You have an idea that maybe if your body can’t really take WinWin’s knot you can just alter your shape enough to make it a little more comfortable, making it so you don’t cause any damage to your person. 

“Take me to the bed,” you moan as WinWin pushes in deeper, his hands firmly at your hips.you feel the swell of his knot against you, and your belly leaps at the thought of him forcing it into you. “If you’re gonna knot me, do it there at least.”

“You’re bossy,” he teases, but he pulls away again, lifting you into his arms, and you happily let him manhandle you. WinWin tucks his face into the crook of your neck, and he breathes in, inhaling your scent. “Smell so good, sweet.” 

His cock rubs against you with each step he takes, and no sooner has he dropped you onto the bed than he’s stuffing his cock back inside your waiting pussy. All his previous cum as well as your body’s overwhelming reaction to his rut makes it more than easy for WinWin to enter you again. 

Again, he folds your knees up to your shoulders, his body pressing you in two, but it allows him to sink deeper, and your body accommodates. Although, even with you making your slight shape-shifting alterations to yourself, WinWin’s big cock is a tight fit. 

His hands drift to your tits, cupping them, palming them, pinching at your nipples. 

“God, your boobs would look so amazing if you were carrying my babies,” WinWin moans, “Heavy with milk, your nipples so sensitive.”

You barely even have to think about it; the part of your mind that’s grown used to accessing your shapeshifting abilities moves to make WinWin’s fantasy a reality. Your tits swell in his hands, growing heavier, the nipples gently swollen. There’s nothing you can do to lactate, but this seems to be enough for him. 

His knot slaps against your pussy with each of WinWin’s deep thrusts, and you want to reach down, slip your fingers inside yourself along with his cock to show him that you can take his knot. How badly you need it, how it’s more than just a want now. 

“Give it to me,” you beg. “Please, I need to feel you, WinWin.”

He swears under his breath, his eyes flashing a dangerous shade of amber gold. 

You brace yourself for how it’s going to feel, doing your best to relax to let him in as WinWin thrusts in deep and then grinds forward even more, pressing in and circling his hips, trying to work the bulge of his knot through your entrance. 

There’s a stretch, a burn, a breathless feeling that speaks to the fire inside you. You have to suppress the urge to call your flames to the surface, shoving it down even as you feel your orgasm racing forward as WinWin’s knot slowly sinks inside you, stretching you beyond belief, making you feel so fucking full. 

Your eyes roll and WinWin curses in delight at the feeling of your pussy squeezing around him, closing tight around the base of his knot as he fully buries himself inside you, plugging you up. 

“Fucking hot,” he groans, and it takes you a moment to realize he doesn’t just mean that you successfully taking his knot is hot. You’re physically hot—sweat steaming off the surface of your skin as you barely contain the flames. 

He starts moving, rocking in deeper, and you close your eyes, nothing more than gurgling moans leaving you as he hits so deep that it almost hurts. Another wave of pleasure rises to meet the last, your body spending itself in squeezing around the girth of WinWin.

And at last, the pressure of your cunt massaging around his knot sets WinWin off. 

His knot swells even more, fully plugging your pussy as his cock twitches and a steady flow of hot cum spills into you. 

You only have time to push at his shoulders, to force WinWin to at least kneel up so he’s not fully covering you as you at last lose your hold on your flames. 

They burst from you, as hot as his cum filling you. The flames explode from your head and shoulders, arms and hands, flashing down the rest of your body for just long enough to lick heat against WinWin’a skin before they immediately die out again, all of your strength gone out of you with that last orgasm. 

But WinWin’s still cumming, huge gushes of it settling in your belly. You can feel your belly expanding to take it all. Your bodies are locked together with nowhere for all this cum to go but into your womb, and you feel blissed out, the sex-driven hunger gone for the first time since he first mentioned his rut. It feels like hours or minutes; you’re truly not sure how long it’s been. 

He pets your hair when at last his orgasm ends or he runs out of cum. You notice that the amber color of his eyes has softened back towards brown, and there’s no intense animalistic lustful energy in the air anymore. 

“That was intense, I’m sorry. It’s been, uh, a long time since I knotted inside someone,” WinWin apologizes and brushes a kiss to your brow.

“What do you normally do?” You ask, trying to not show just how exhausted you are now. “Don’t you have to knot to get through your rut?”

WinWin nods. “Yeah, but like, it doesn’t have to be inside someone. Usually I just use my hand or like fleshlight, the fleshlight kinda can trick my body into thinking I’m knotting someone. My rut lasts longer when I’m not with someone, usually it’s worse for me. But if I am with someone but I don’t knot inside them, it still sucks, but fucking someone warm at least takes the edge off a lot better than using my hand or a toy.”

“How long does it last?” You squirm. It feels peculiar, the stretch and full, heavy feeling of him and all of his cum inside you. 

“My rut? Uh, it’s between two and three days.” He looks away from you, “So, like, if you get tired, you don’t have to let me keep fucking you. I promise, I can just get myself off. Just tell me to fuck off.” 

“I meant your knot,” you squirm again. “Like, it goes down, right? How long does that take? And how long before you need to do it again?”

His cheeks color slightly. “An hour or two is how long it lasts, longer probably if you keep squeezing around me.” 

You realize that you have been unintentionally clenching and unclenching around him. “Sorry,” you smile. 

“And as for how long until I need to knot again, I’m not really sure. A couple hours, it really changes all the time. I’ll be fine until I’m just… not. It comes in waves, so I never really know. I usually just get sleep and eat and drink water when I can.”

You didn’t plan ahead at all. You should’ve put water within reach of the bed. Your kitchen is too many steps away to reach easily when you’re connected like this. 

“You should get some sleep, princess,” WinWin pets your hair again, leaving another kiss on your brow. “I’ll wake you if I need to.”

Carefully, WinWin rearranges the pair of you. He gently helps you lower your legs to a good position (though your muscles ache and scream in protest at moving), and he rolls over onto his back, settling you on top of him with his knot still snug inside you. He draws the blankets up over your bodies, and then he wraps his arms around you, tucking his face again into the crook of your shoulder to breathe in the smell of you. 

“You really do smell good,” he murmurs. 

“What do I smell like?” You’re curious. Ten and Yuta have both told you that you smell delicious. Mark has mentioned it in an offhand way several times, usually when he’s hungry, and the words are always paired with a bloodthirsty red glint in his eyes. 

WinWin is quiet for a moment. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, and a second heartbeat throbs dully deep inside you, like you’re feeling his pulse through his cock and his knot. He just breathes and you do too, letting it relax you. 

You’re tipping on the brink of sleep when WinWin finally answers. 

“Caramel. A little spice. Maybe cloves or cinnamon.” He answers softly, his breath tickling lightly over your skin. “Like a candy, maybe, or a warm drink, something that hits right in your belly and you can just feel it warming you from the inside out when the weather’s cold.” His arms hold you a little tighter. “Reminds me of home.”

You doze off. 

Vaguely, you dream (possibly) of Yuta. His hands light on your face, his hushed voice and WinWin’s in reply. You think you dream that WinWin carefully sits up with his arms holding you to his chest, his deflating knot still seated inside you as Yuta tips a glass of water to your lips, and you swallow down every drop, far more thirsty than you’d thought. 

You dream of Ten, his voice careful yet affectionate as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you from WinWin’s softening cock. 

It feels slightly less dreamlike and more real as he carries you to the bathroom, presses another glass of water into your hands to drink, and he helps you shower. You possibly cry actual tears when he helps wash away the cum that’s leaked and dried on your thighs, as Ten scoops WinWin’s cum out of you with his fingers—gently and cautiously as you’re sensitive to any contact at the moment. 

You hate to see it all go, and that inspires a few more lighthearted teasing words from Ten, and scattered kisses paired with promises that WinWin is sure to have more cum for you. 

“Do you hate me?” You cry even as he’s kissing every freckle on your cheeks. “You probably hate me. I broke a promise.”

“No, you didn’t,” Ten reassures you. He plants his hands on your cheeks, making you look at him. “I don’t hate you. Quite the opposite actually. I told you I’m working on my jealousy. I’m being open-minded. This…. This has just been a test for me, and I think I’m doing quite well.” He leans in to kiss your forehead, and then he stays there, lips against your damp skin while the water rushes over both of you. After a few moments he murmurs, “It’s all quite complicated, but I’ve known that since the night we met you. You’re too lovely to not make everyone you meet fall in love with you. And I think, if it’s only us, just these few of us that are so closely knotted — no pun intended — then I can be happy with that. No one’s going to steal you away. I won’t let it happen.”

“I wouldn’t go anyway,” you promise. 

Ten makes sure you’re clean, hydrated, and even fed before he deposits you back into bed with a kiss. WinWin is passed out on the other side of the bed, holding a long pillow that you don’t recognize. 

“Sleep, darling. Yuta and I are here to take care of you. And WinWin, that dog.” He throws a look over at the werewolf in your bed. “Like I said earlier, shout if you need anything. Water. A break. Anything.”

“Got it,” you mumble, already sleepily turning over. 

And the next time you wake, there’s no sign of Ten or Yuta. Only you and WinWin, both of you undressed in the bed, a glass of water on the bedside table for each of you. 

You’re not really sure what woke you, not until you hear it again. A low panting sound, a short whine, the repetitive sound of something moving. 

You look at WinWin. 

He looks like he’s still sleeping; his eyes are closed though his eyebrows scrunch together. But his body is moving. His hips flex forward, grinding against the long pillow he’s still hugging. 

You can feel it again, the heat pouring off of his skin, the answering tug in your belly to his call of need. 

But you don’t touch him, you just watch. 

You watch him hump the pillow, his bare cock sliding against the slick precum that’s already dripping from his tip. You watch his mouth fall open, a slight glimpse at his teeth elongating into fangs as he bites at the corner of the pillow, his hips moving faster. You witness his orgasm, cum spurting from his angry red cock. 

And he doesn’t stop there. WinWin keeps moving, chasing the eternal need to cum, to breed, to knot someone. 

You can’t look away or bring yourself to reach out and wake him so you can spread your legs and let him use you as his little fucktoy instead of the pillow. You just watch as WinWin shifts, still dreaming as he mounts the pillow, pressing his body over top of it, rolling his hips to smoothly thrust against the softness of the pillow, but you can tell by the frustrated growl he lets out that it’s not enough. The pillow can’t give him the sweet, tight, warm friction that his rut requires. 

He moves, shifting in frustration, repositioning atop the pillow multiple times as he continues trying to fuck it, growing harder and more irritated as the pillow fails to please him. 

So finally you reach over. 

The moment that your hand makes contact with his feverishly hot skin, WinWin rolls toward you, abandoning his pillow. He spoons up behind you, his cock slotting against your ass. He sighs in relief at the warm feeling of you. 

His arms twist around you, hugging you to him like he’d been hugging that pillow. His nose buried in your hair against your shoulder, breathing in. 

Something about the way you smell drives him on harder. WinWin twists his hips against you, pinning your hips down beneath his against the bed, and you suppress a moan as he moves uncontrollably, rutting against your ass, his legs nudging yours apart slowly until at last his cock slips down between your thighs, moving on a mission like he can scent out your pussy, and his cock dives right in. 

You finally moan his name aloud as he sinks your sensitive pussy around his big dick again. 

“Wuh—?” A rut-drunk half asleep WinWin stirs, fucking you on his cock before he’s even fully aware of his surroundings. He doesn’t slow down, even once he realizes, most probably because you moan “keep going” and “don’t stop, WinWin! Fuck, right there!” because at this angle, he’s aimed perfectly against your G spot, and your first orgasm of today hits with very little warning. 

WinWin buries himself against you, his knot slipping inside you, every inch of you is touching him, your face pressed into the pillow as WinWin fully plows you. You can feel his knot swelling, his breath panting against your neck, and you’re just vibrating with pleasure.

This time when he knots you, you know what to expect. There’s the hot swell of his knot followed immediately by the equally hot burst of his cum, your body answering with your own orgasm. 

You can’t help yourself, twisting your head to the side, reaching back to tangle your fingers in WinWin’s hair, dragging his face from your neck to bring his lips to yours. 

It’s a messy, sideways kiss, but it’s what you need. You need to feel entirely encapsulated by WinWin, his body over yours and inside you and beneath you as his hands slide between your body and the mattress. 

You’re still in the middle of kissing him when you hear something that draws you out of the heated bubble of pleasure you’re knotted in with WinWin. And then when you feel the mattress shift, you actually pull away from WinWin. 

Yuta is sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on where WinWin has lowered his head back to your throat, just inhaling your sweet scent while he slowly flexes his hips forward. 

“Can I help you?” You ask, just looking at Yuta. 

He shakes his head, smoothing his hand over a series of wrinkles in the bedsheets. “Just checking on you. Looks like you’re doing just fine.”

When Yuta reaches over to just touch you, WinWin growls. You watch Yuta make a face and then he detours to tug lightly at WinWin’s hair, chastising him with, “Hey, don’t be that way. I’m not stealing her away, puppy. And besides that, we share.”

“Couldn’t go anywhere, even if I wanted to,” you mumble. 

Yuta brushes a finger tenderly along your cheek. “I know, my love. He’s got you knotted good on his cock. You won’t forget about Ten and I, will you?”

You lean into his touch. “You can both join in, if WinWin will let you.”

“Ten had to go away on business,” Yuta says, “but I wouldn’t mind joining.” 

WinWin makes a slightly possessive growling sound again, but that ends when he lifts his head from your neck and looks up at Yuta. 

Specifically, it ends the moment WinWin notices that Yuta has shapeshifted to possess the amber-gold eyes of a wolf, and his teeth are bared in his own demonic version of a growl, saying, “I’m the alpha here, WinWin.”

WinWin’s knot is still swollen inside you, unlikely to come loose any time soon. He’s still doing his best to fuck you, to breed you until your belly is round with his cum again. His skin sticks to yours with sweat, and the heat only grows when Yuta suddenly vanishes all of his clothes and moves closer. 

Basking in the radiant heat of a werewolf in his rut and a demon feeling excited has you swimming in sweat, yet deeply aroused. 

“We can make this work. It’ll be a little different than with Ten and I,” Yuta says, “Since you’re quite literally joined to Win right now.” 

You don’t mind it being a little different. 

WinWin does his best to sit up, pulling you up with him, his cock and his knot still snuggly plugging you full of his cum. Yuta slides up in front of you, and you tip your head towards him, eagerly searching for a kiss from him. 

“So needy, my love.” He nuzzles against the side of your head for a moment before acquiescing to your nonverbal request for a kiss. Yuta is tender with you in this moment, like he’s fully aware of what your body has been through since they left you alone with WinWin yesterday. You’re not feeling the aches yet, but you know that once all of this dick fever brought on by WinWin’s rut ends, you’re going to be feeling it. 

Yuta slides a hand along the front of your body, taking a moment to touch your tits, to caress your sides, trailing his fingertips over your belly, his fingers lastly dipping down to your clit, which has been almost entirely neglected with WinWin. Yuta circles his finger against your clit, his mouth against yours as the heat builds higher and higher. WinWin is casually thrusting into you from behind, pushing out broken pants and moans from your lips. 

Yuta bites at your bottom lip as he pulls away, his teeth sharp enough to draw blood. You hiss in pain as Yuta sinks back on his heels, his finger still circling at your clit, and he licks his lips. 

“You taste sweet, baby girl. But you smell like our WinWin, if I’m being honest.” Yuta’s eyes flick over your shoulder to WinWin who begins to thrust into you with renewed vigor. “Ten and I are going to have to dip you in holy water or something to get rid of that smell. We already have been hunting down an herb for you to take after WinWin’s rut, to make sure nothing comes of it.”

“Guess I’ll just have to try harder, won’t I?” WinWin moans, and you feel his knot pulse inside you. “She wants it, Yuta. Who am I to deny your pretty girlfriend?”

Your eyes roll in ecstasy as the two of them bicker over you, WinWin dicking you down a little harder, Yuta distractedly massaging your clit at the exact rhythm to complement WinWin’s thrusts. 

Your orgasm is a slow, syrupy spread through you, beginning at your toes and then it’s just everywhere all at once. Your body threatens to collapse forward or sway back and rest against WinWin as your pussy milks around his knot. 

WinWin bites down at your shoulder, teeth digging against your skin, his body crushed against yours from behind, and you feel fit to burst with how full he makes you feel then, especially as you clench tight around him. 

Yuta’s hands move to your belly, pressing a hand low over your abdomen. 

“You’re swollen, baby girl. Happy?” Yuta strokes his fingers in a line from your navel down to just above your clit. 

“Happier if I had you too,” you manage to say. 

WinWin shakes his head behind you. “There’s no room for him.” 

“But there will be,” Yuta says. “Once your knot goes down some, just pop that knot out, that’ll free up some room. Your cock is big, Win, but it’s not so big that she can’t take us both at the same time.”

Oh, you feel like it might be. Your pussy’s being stretched to the limit, and it feels great right now, but that little worried voice in the back of your head won’t let you forget about how you’re going to feel after this is over. 

“It’ll be alright.” Yuta notices the worried look on your face. He touches your hair, kisses your forehead. “If you don’t want it, let us know. You can be honest.”

Your pussy keeps fluttering around WinWin, wanting more, but wanting a break as well, but also needing to have Yuta inside you as well. There’s nothing you can do about it until WinWin’s knot goes down. 

“I want it, want to have both.” You lean into Yuta’s touch. 

WinWin whines softly behind you, his needy rut making it difficult for him to even attempt giving you a little break now. But he tries his best to not try fucking you at the moment, like maybe if he doesn’t move his knot will go down quicker. 

Yuta curls his hand against your neck, and he brings your mouth to his kissing you gently and distractingly, helping you forget at least momentarily about how full and stretched you feel around WinWin. As Yuta sinks down into his back on the bed you follow, supporting yourself in your hands and knees to keep kissing him. His hands run smoothly over your back and down to your hips; the other hand touches your tits and your belly. 

It seems to be simultaneous when Yuta begins touching your clit and also dips his fingers over your unused asshole. Your core throbs, and WinWin unintentionally jolts forward. 

Yuta’s fingers deep further, brushing against where you and WinWin are joined. He gathers your wetness on his fingers, bringing them back up to swirl and prod against your ass. 

At the moment, you marvel at how far you’ve come over the last few months. You went from being a faithful girl, a young woman certain about her faith and the difference between good and evil, and also you were truly rather vanilla in terms of the sex you’d had with partners. But look at you now. Being knotted by a werewolf while one of the two demons you’re regularly having sex with plays with your ass, presumably to get you ready for anal. 

“If you keep that up,” WinWin groans, “I’m not going to be able to pull out.”

You’re reacting well to Yuta’s touches. The arousal always tucked just there beneath the surface readily rising to his call. 

He slips a finger through the tight ring of your ass, and you drop your head forward against his chest, pressing back on his finger and WinWin’s cock. WinWin rocks forward, Yuta massages your clit. 

“Shit,” you gasp. 

“Good girl,” Yuta coos. “Relax for us.”

You automatically obey, taking a deep breath to help relax yourself. Just press your lips to Yuta’s chest as he begins to finger you slowly while WinWin keeps moving in equally as slow motions, keeping you constantly stimulated. That’s even without factoring in the way Yuta continues teasing your clit. 

You succumb to a haze of lust, just laying there and receiving pleasure from the two of them. You don’t even let out moans, not really. You just zone out, your cheek pressed to Yuta’s shoulder, hums of quiet pleasure vibrating in your chest as WinWin’s rut haze takes over completely, pushed into effect by the gentle heat of your pussy around him also being stimulated via your ass.

WinWin cums and keeps going, groaning out an, “I’m sorry, I know you’ve got to be sensitive, but I need it,” as he pumps you full to the point of a weak cry spilling from your lips. He folds over you, humping into you like a dog with his favorite toy, and you possibly black out for a second, overwhelmed by a sudden confusing mix of pain, pleasure, and sensitivity. 

When you come back to, your face is sticking to Yuta’s chest with your tears, and you realize what caused your black out. 

WinWin’s readjusting. He pulled out of you,  knot and all, to position himself to fuck your newly opened ass. 

“You okay?” He asks when you look back over your shoulder at him. He’s stroking his cock, and you see his knot again for the first time since last night, swollen and darker colored than the rest of his cock. 

“Good,” you mumble. 

Yuta’s fingers are stretching your asshole open, and that too makes you want to roll your eyes into the back of your head. Everything feels so good right now, pleasure with an edge of pain, so high on pheromones and your body loose right now.

“You sure, baby?” Yuta kisses the top of your head. “You can tell him no. Tell us no.”

“Want it,” you roll your head on his chest until the point of your chin digs against his skin. “Yuta, I want both of you.”

His face is right there in front of yours, so close that his features are blurry and unfocused. “He can’t knot you again. I won’t allow that. You need some rest. Proper rest, my love. One orgasm for each of us, and I’m putting you in a timeout.”

You smile a little goofy at that comment, but WinWin makes his agreement behind you, so you nod as well. 

It’s so familiar by this point, the way that Yuta touches you, his hands running smoothly over your belly and your hips, reaching your thighs as he pulls you forward into his lap. You know that you’re leaking WinWin’s cum to a disgusting degree, but it doesn’t seem to bother Yuta. He pulls you into his lap, watching you with that deep fiery hunger in his eyes as they blossom with darkness, and he guides you to sink down around his erection. 

It’s such a difference from WinWin stretching you open with his giant knot. Yuta’s a perfect size, even though you can tell that he’s altered himself to more closely resemble the cock he’d worn when he fucked you as WinWin. 

Yuta softens you up with his kiss, with his hands on your hips, his cock rocking slowly up into you. And then you feel WinWin, his fingers slicking up through the leaked cum, pressing them inside your back entrance to stretch you just a little more even after Yuta’s ministrations. 

“Good girl,” Yuta keeps praising you. “You’re so good for WinWin, my love. Doing so well.” He kisses your cheeks, licking away the overwhelmed tears that drip from your eyes, and he lowers his kisses until he lands at your lips. “My perfect girl. You can handle this?”

You nod, full of desire to take them both at once even as the uncertainty of it floods through your veins. WinWin’s cock alone is a lot to take, add taking Yuta’s altered cock in at the same time, and you’re just nervous about it. 

With your final confirmation and consent to this, you feel WinWin push his fat tip against your entrance, moving slow even though you can feel the tension tight in his muscles, the want to just bury himself inside your heat radiating from him. But he eases slowly, getting the tip in while Yuta holds you still in his arms, kissing your cries away in an attempt to soothe you. 

WinWin pushes in a little more and a little more, rocking his hips forward shallowly, not trying to stuff you too full of his cock when you’ve got Yuta in there as well. And he keeps his swollen knot away from the tight pucker of your ass. He gives you the chance to adjust, and Yuta does as well, both of them kissing you, touching you, and then beginning to move again. 

It’s a very intense feeling to have two men penetrating you at once. To have both of them moving in alternating but complementary ways, big cocks touching everywhere inside you, nearly touching through the thin wall between your ass and vagina. 

Yuta’s hands run repeatedly over your arms and back and shoulders, pulling you down closer, kissing you desperately, his hands flickering with heat like invisible flames. 

WinWin’s touch doesn’t stray from your hips, determinedly fucking into you, and when you get the spare moment to look back at him, he’s just watching his cock disappear inside your ass, or maybe watching Yuta’s be consumed by your pussy. 

You do your best to move, too. Bouncing back on their cocks, feeling yourself stuffed so full if they time it just right to both be fully inside of you at the same moment. That’s just a feeling beyond your wildest dreams, indescribably good. Something so absolutely explicit about having both of your holes stretched to the max, feeling WinWin’s knot right there—swollen and pressing against your asshole, but he doesn’t push it in, though there’s a part of you that wishes he would, and that Yuta would alter his cock to have a knot too, for them both push all the way in, double-knotting you. 

You cum with that thought consuming your mind, being double-knotted by your werewolf and your demon pretending to be a wolf, pumped full with their cum. 

“Filthy,” Yuta moans, as your body tries to pull them both in deeper and to hold them inside you. His fingers are on your face, against your temple, gentle down your cheek. “What you’re thinking about my love, it’s pure filth.”

In your demon lessons, he and Ten have been teaching you to block others out of your thoughts, and for the most part you’re excellent at it. But right now, you have no strength to hold those walls up. They’ve come tumbling down, and Yuta’s slipped himself right through the gaps, reading your thoughts as plainly as if you were speaking them aloud. 

“You want us both to knot you, pretty girl?” Yuta voices aloud, probably for WinWin’s benefit. “What a dirty knotslut.” 

WinWin moans behind you, his hands holding tighter to your hips, his thrusts more powerful, rocking you on Yuta’s cock as well. 

Yuta smirks. “You want it, baby? I’ll make an exception to my rules. We can each knot you one last time before your timeout.” 

Your eyes feel wet, body aching with need, teetering on the edge of another orgasm as WinWin loses control of himself and begins to just take what he needs, using you as a fucktoy, his knot squeezing up against your entrance. 

“Please!” You beg, and your voice sounds hoarse to your own ears. “Please, please, knot me again. Both of you. I need it. I need—“

Yuta leans up, silencing you with a kiss, his hand curled against the back of your head. 

You feel Yuta’s cock swelling inside you, the change subtle but noticeable after a moment as he begins to let his control slip. You feel a bulge at the base of his cock, feel the way he thrusts in right before the bulge inflates. Your orgasm is instantaneous. 

And then WinWin’s fingers press against your asshole, slipping in gently, stretching you open just a little bit more, and it feels so good. You feel like your body is leaking arousal, everywhere down there so slick from your wetness and their precum and cum, that WinWin easily gets a couple more fingers in alongside his cock, making room for his knot to fit in. 

He thrusts in, sliding his knot past the tight grip of your hole, and you genuinely think you black out. 

It’s too much. So much. This feeling. 

You experience it through a fog, hazy recollections later.

They cum inside you at the same time.

Both of them pressed in fully, all the way inside you, knots swelling to close you off, to keep their cum in as it pulses in hot waves inside you. 

Your limbs give out completely, all of your weight resting on Yuta beneath you, but you don’t think anyone cares in that moment. All floating away, lost in the bliss of being wrapped tight in your heat, their cocks being milked by your body for all they’ve got. 

You don’t know how long it is that you’re in that state of semi-consciousness, but eventually you’re back. One moment everything’s a haze, and the next you’re blinking your eyes open, feeling Yuta tenderly playing with your hair. 

“You’re definitely being forced into a timeout now,” Yuta whispers. “That was more than we should’ve given you.”

WinWin murmurs in agreement. 

Slowly you realize that their knots must have gone down. You’re empty, gaping and leaking. You’re on your side in between Yuta and WinWin, and when you shift your legs to attempt to get more comfortable you find that’s an impossibility because everything aches. Your body feels sticky all over, not just between your legs, but your belly and shoulders and face, everything damp from sweat and tears and coming in contact with the sheets that are likely ruined (again).

You feel like you should rest. They’re right about that. Your body, much as that little fire that’s still burning in your belly at the feel of WinWin behind you and Yuta’s bare body laid out in front of your hungry eyes, you know it can’t take much (if any) more.

But you’re not tired is the only problem. Yes, physically you feel like your body needs to just take some time to recover, but you don’t feel like sleeping. Sleeping, recently here in this city, has become less of a requirement than it did when you believed yourself to just be a human living in the mortal world. 

“I think I need a shower.” You sigh, lifting your thighs apart from each other, feeling the sticky pull of your skin. “And some water.”

Yuta snaps his fingers, manifesting three glasses of water instantly, passing one off to WinWin, to you. The three of you drink them down in silence, following the first up with a second, and as you dribble some down your chin and WinWin teases you about it, wiping at your chin with his fingers, you’re reminded suddenly of the night before. Of Ten cleaning you up and helping you rehydrate. 

“Where’s Ten at?” You ask, looking to Yuta for an answer. 

“Demon business, my love.” Yuta takes the empty water glasses and sits them aside. 

“Ten’s going to be jealous,” WinWin says delightedly, moving up closer behind you, his lips against your shoulder, nose buried in the crook of your neck. “When he comes home and finds you smelling like me and Yuta.”

Yuta laughs. “Ten’s a possessive little cat. He’s probably going to be pissed at me for joining in, then he’s gonna rub all over you, my love. Gonna mark you with his scent all over again, beg you for love and cuddles.”

And you’re going to give it all to him. You can hardly ever deny him anything, except when you’re angry with him. When he gets home, as long as all he wants are cuddles, you’ll give it to him. As for him restating his claim on you through sex, that’s going to have to wait. 

“I feel disgusting.” You turn over onto your belly, wrinkling your nose as you feel the slow leak between your legs. “I don’t know what I expected when I agreed to help you through your rut, WinWin, but it wasn’t this.”

It’s obscene. You can’t even attempt to look; you don’t even want to think about the amount of sticky cum your body has held over the past twenty-four hours. 

He laughs quietly, another press of his lips to your skin in apology. “I’ll make it up to you with a million thank yous,” WinWin promises. “Give you everything, whatever you want, princess.”

 - - -

WinWin’s rut lasts another two days. Yuta stays there through most of it, drawing the line when he can see you reaching your limit. WinWin knots you a few more times, Yuta joins in on that at least once more. Ten makes an appearance briefly in between rounds, returning to check in, but then he’s gone again by the time that WinWin’s lust rises again. 

By the end of it all, you were exhausted, sleeping for what must have been an entire day. 

And when you woke, you weren’t in the bed any longer, but on the sofa. Sitting up in Ten’s arms, leaning back against his chest. 

“Missed you,” he mumbles when you twist a little in his arms, trying to readjust to look at his face. His arms are tight around you, holding you against his chest, his head resting against the top of yours. Ten is so wrapped around you, with a blanket of his snug around you as well, that you can tell he’s doing exactly what Yuta and WinWin had said he’d be doing—making you smell less like WinWin. 

“Ten,” you hum happily. “Where were you? I wanted you to be there too.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and in that you think you get your answer a little bit. 

Ten couldn’t be there. He’s possessive, like you’re all aware of. Though he gave you up to WinWin’s rut, he didn’t want to linger here and watch. He accepted it, but he didn’t want to play witness to you getting fucked a dozen plus times.

“I’m here now.” He moves his head, leaving a kiss against your hair. “You’ve been asleep for a while, darling, so I moved you over here while they fixed the bed.”

Oh, right. You forgot that other than just ruining the sheets, during the midst of all of that, towards the end of the second day or perhaps it was the beginning of the third, you’d broken the bed. You’d left it, as the bed wasn’t broken enough to really disturb all the sex you had going on, but the break did get worse, falling apart more with each round. 

“We cleaned you up, too,” Ten says. “And he did a number on you. Your hips and bottom are bruised.”

“Worth it, honestly.” You shift around to get a little more comfortable. “I know you might not want to hear that, but it really was, Ten.” 

He nods. “Yuta told me all about it. Also, you drank some of the tea we made for you while you were sleeping. So, you don’t have to worry about, like, actually getting knocked up with a litter of werewolf cubs.”

There’s a bloom of relief inside you. While all of that idea about being bred was hot in the moment, you don’t actually want that. Werewolf cubs might be a little too much to wrap your mind around. 

You and Ten lapse into comfortable silence, just wrapped up in each other for a little while. The curtains are drawn over the big windows, making the apartment quite dim, but as you lie there in Ten’s arms, you begin to want a little light. So, you manifest it. Slowly. 

You tip your head back on Ten’s shoulder, and slowly, you see the lights begin to appear, popping into existence on the ceiling. 

First one star. Then another. A constellation, the pale arm of the Milky Way. A bigger sparkle that could be Venus or Saturn in the imitation of the night sky on your ceiling. 

Ten kisses the top of your head again when the moon appears, a narrow crescent in the corner of the room. “You’re incredible,” Ten’s voice is soft with awe and wonder.

You lie there and stargaze at the universe you created, relaxing with Ten until Yuta appears. He slides right onto the sofa with you, slotting himself between your legs and leaning back against your chest. 

“It’s beautiful. I told you that you could do it.” His hand covers your knee, a comforting heat. “You’re like a god all on your own now, my love. Painting the universe, able to shapeshift and summon fire.” 

You’re not a god. Gods are holy and above everything and everyone else. You’re a part-demon thing of unholiness in love with two demons. 

But you don’t feel like speaking, your body still exhausted to your core from the marathon of rigors it's been through over the past few days. So you just lie there in the quiet with your lovers, and enjoy the sight of the stars.

<-previous || next–>

a/n: *big sigh of relief* that was a long one, like in the document, that whole WinWin rut was like 30 pages long 😂😂 I hope you enjoyed this! There was a tiny bit of plot development in here, and I’m hoping going forward in the next few chapters you’ll actually be able to see the plot instead of just the smut because we’re reaching the point where when I was writing this I decided to make it more than just smut

As always! Thank you so much for reading! Comments, reblogs, likes, all of that stuff is forever and always appreciated!

(ps, if at any point you notice any inconsistencies please let me know! Because half of this story was written like a month and a half ago, and half of it I’m writing on the days in between posting, so there might be some things that I accidentally mess up and don’t catch when I do an edit)

[caspercryptid]

so about that billford au fic request, probably a cliche, but uhh... Hades and Persephone style myth au?

This one was a thinker, but I did my best! This isn't exactly greek mythology, but I sort of...implied a larger system of mythos. It's loosely taking shape in my head. I think i got the broad strokes.

Billford requests still open, I've only got one more in my inbox after this so feel free to keep 'em coming, and as always if you want more of this you're also welcome to request a follow-up. Love and light.

____

What everyone tends to forget about Spring is that it's about creation.

The spirit of spring isn't all flowers and birdsong- the spirit of inspiration, of life emerging from nothing. That was spring.

And that was Ford.

It wasn't easy, sometimes- the patron of in-betweens, never making the final leap, always on the edge of flourishing and never there. Ford made it work. Better this job than the other one, the one that had fallen to his brother, when they'd won their places. Stanley heralded endings, ran ahead of incoming ruin. Ford didn't envy him, and if he was grateful for one thing, it was that his position granted him safety.

Or, so he'd assumed.

He was working, when it happened. There was a certain irony in it-- that the school year was ending when he was at his best. But this was when he was needed, he reflected. One last push to overcome the lethargy of winter and time off, to get through exams. He flitted through halls of colleges, whispered secrets in the ears of students, delivered inspirations. He enjoyed this work— he enjoyed colleges, their beautiful halls and bustling campuses. He wasn't paying enough attention to his surroundings.

He was used to letting the flowers spring up through the snow where he walked, and when one failed to break through the ice he bent to encourage it— more confused than suspicious at his powers failing. Which is how he came to be kneeling as the shadow fell over him.

He looks up.

A figure in heavy shadow stands over him— its yellow eyes are looking at him, not through him the way the humans do. He feels a strange thrill.

"—Hello," he manages, voice a little rusty from disuse, and on a whim he sticks his hand into the snow and scoops up the flower that's just sprouted by the roots. It's yellow head bobs as he offers it to the figure.

"—It matches your eyes," he says, awkwardly.

A shadowed hand with long fingers reaches out and takes it, and as it does frost forms across the entire flower, freezing it in place, killing it instantly, but preserved in crystalline perfection.

"Well well well—" the figure says, "aren't you charming. The name's Bill."

"—I'm Stanford."

"Stanford," he says. "I think I'll keep you."

"—Pardon?"

The man places a hand on Ford's forehead, and the earth opens beneath them, dragging him under the surface, as above them, the ground freezes over.

[acespaceacepilot]

i'd bleed for anything if it held me the right way 🩸🗡️💥 a wyll/astarion playlist on spotify

(song list + lyrics that made me chose them below the cut)

man or a monster (feat. zayde wølf) - sam tinnesz

it's so hard to tell which side you're on / one day is hell, the next day is the dawn / the lines are blurred, you keep rubbing your eyes / the tables turn, now it's time to survive

eat your young - hozier

i'm starving, darling / let me put my lips to something / let me wrap my teeth around the world / start carving, darling

until it doesn’t hurt - mother mother

i wanna fight, i wanna bite / i wanna swallow all the light / but i'ma stay right here / i'ma stay inside / i'ma just sit tight for another night / if i can't make it right / then i won't make it worse / i'ma just sit tight until it doesn't hurt

biting down - lorde

skip a hit, don't make a sound / (it feels better biting down) / breathed so deep i thought i'd drown / (it feels better biting down) / listen to the beats resound / (it feels better biting down)

furthest star - dirt poor robins

behold the day she found me here / so near the end of love's career / i feared every flower that appeared / had been uprooted by my peers / but then my autumn prayers were heard / just before the frost emerged / and i'll have my just deserts / when, once again, i'm next to her

flesh and bone - black math

break the truth inside of me / climbed down to hell on the devil's tree / i clutched a branch of soot and flame / the thought that rose, to scorch my feet

de selby (part 2) - hozier

what you're given, what you live in / darlin', it finds a way to live in you / and your heart, love, has such darkness / i feel it in the corners of the room

my body is a cage - arcade fire

my body is a cage / that keeps me from dancing with the one i love / but my mind holds the key / you're standing next to me / my mind holds the key / i'm living in an age / that calls darkness light / though my language is dead / still the shapes fill my head

gilded lily - slowed + reverb - cults

now it's been long enough to talk about it / i've started not to doubt it, just wrap my head around it / i remember when you told me it's an everyday decision / but with my double vision, how was i supposed to see the way? / haven't i given enough, given enough? (x4) / always the fool with the slowest heart

dispense with sentiment - we are scientists

i've been turning this over in my head / but i've been trying not to pick it apart / it's an overture to something, i guess / but i'll be goddamned if i can say to what / it's like i'm winding up to speak / for the first time in weeks / i'm trying to make sense / can we start again / and drop our defenses? / it might just be best / if we start dispensing with sentiment

graveyard whistling - nothing but thieves

all that afterlife / i don't hold with it / all your gods are false / just get used to it / let's go out tonight / kill some stubborn myths / set those ghosts alight, get into it. // ok, i admit / i'm not innocent / i did everything and i would again

crying wolf - julien baker

'cause i'm not crying wolf / i'm out here / looking for them / in the morning when i wake up / naked in their den / i'll swear off all the things i thought / that got me here / in the evening / i'll come back again

blood bank - bon iver

that secret that we know / that we don't know how to tell / i'm in love with your honor / i'm in love with your cheeks / what's that noise up the stairs babe? / is that christmas morning creaks?

bite the hand - boygenius

who do you think you are? / who do you think i am? / what do you wanna say? / what do you think will change? / maybe i'm afraid of you (x2) / i'll bite the hand that feeds me (x2) / bite the hand (x2) / bite the hand that needs me (x2)

metaphor - the crane wives

don't look too hard 'cause you won't like the scars he left in me / i've gotten good at making up metaphors / i've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape / and all these words are sweet and meaningless / you can't trust a single thing i say

various storms & saints - florence + the machine

i'm in the throes of it / somewhere in the belly of the beast / but you took your toll on me / so i gave myself over willingly / oh, you got a hold on me / i don't know how i don't just stand outside and scream / i am teaching myself how to be free

savior complex - phoebe bridgers

baby, you're a vampire / you want blood and i promised / i'm a bad liar / with a savior complex / all the skeletons you hide / show me yours, and i'll show you mine

see the day - the altogether

the sleeping slip has begun to fray / i never thought i'd see the day / the pious hunter stops stalking prey / i never thought i'd see the day

myth - beach house

if you built yourself a myth / you'd know just what to give / what comes after this / momentary bliss? / the consequence / of what you do to me / help me to name it

posthumous forgiveness - tame impala

ever since i was a small boy / no one else compared to you, no way / i always thought heroes stayed close / whenever troubled times arose / i didn't know, ain't always how it goes / every single word you told me / i believed without a question, always / to save all of us / you told us both to trust / but now i know you only saved yourself

slowing down - the backseat lovers

whisper in my ear / that you need me / but if you saw it clearly / would you leave me? / i'm honest to you / but i'm lying to myself / and i don't wanna hear it / it has something to do / with the balance of my blood / and when i'll have to spill it

only - ry x

coming from the cold / buried under heat / lay you on the floor / i was only falling in love / cut me like a rose / turn me like a beast / hold you to the floor / i was only falling in love

daylight - david kushner

tellin' myself it's the last time / can you spare any mercy that you might find / if i'm down on my knees again? / deep down, way down, lord, i try / try to follow your light, but it's night time / please, don't leave me in the end

touch - sleeping at last

i know, i know the sirens sound / just before the walls come down / pain's a well-intentioned weatherman / predicting god as best he can / but god, i wanna feel again

will anybody ever love me? - sufjan stevens

will anybody ever love me? / for good reasons / without grievance, not for sport / will anybody ever love me? / in every season / pledge allegiance to my heart / pledge allegiance to my burning heart

holy lover - keaton henson

i think i love you / baby, please, don't be afraid of me / i think i love you / and oh, holy lover / i'll be the colors i can't see / and i will try harder / avail my father, live every need / and i've been so lonely / oh, please, just hold me so i can sleep

true love will find you in the end - someone, benjamin longman

but how can it recognize you / if you don't step out into the light, the light / don't be sad i know you will / don't give up until / true love will find you in the end

the moon doesn’t mind - lord huron

the sky doesn't care what my poor heart wants / and the desert can't hear my cries / the moon doesn't mind that i'm left all alone / and she's gone, gone

my love mine all mine - mitski

'cause my love is mine, all mine / i love, my, my, mine / nothing in the world belongs to me / but my love, mine, all mine

to build a home - the cinematic orchestra, patrick watson

this is a place where i don't feel alone / this is a place where i feel at home / 'cause, i built a home / for you / for me / until it disappeared / from me / from you

[thekingofthenameless]

Tell me your top 3 OCs

Thanks for the ask!!! :D

My top two are definitely Merlin and Charlie!

(I have other ocs of course, but I have no thoughts about them rn because I’m writing a oneshot specifically centered around these two, so I’m just gonna talk about their bond for the third lmao.)

1. Merlin:

Merlin (full name Merlin Caledonensis Ambrosius) is a Black transgender aroace man! (Specially non-partnering, as well as being romance and sex repulsed.) He’s also neurodivergent: he has schizophrenia, psychosis (as a symptom of it), misophonia, and Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

He has a carefully crafted image of himself that he’s made as a way to survive, and no one besides Charlie, Ganieda, or Vivian will know his true self.

He hides it all under being a very mellow person.

He’ll smile easily, make shitty puns, converse with most people he comes across, give advice and trade knowledge freely without there being any catch, unlike some others out there.

Many consider him a friend, one of the most renowned protectors of magic, and one of the most famous magical beings, that everyone at least knows the name of. (Despite the demons that apparently have plagued his mind for centuries.)

But both he and his dragon are shrouded in myths and legends that no one knows are true or not, and he’ll never confirm or deny, simply dodging the curiosity or asking about the questioner with a smile.

(Unless it’s about being secretly married, because then he’ll go on a disgusted rant about being thrust into romance, and how he’s never been in a relationship, and he doesn’t need it, he has Charlie and his sister and his friends.)

His secrecy isn’t just limited to his past; it’s to the point that he feels exposed if someone simply finds out something he likes.

He usually doesn’t think about the fact that he’s constantly hiding parts of himself to make him seem more palatable, but when he does, he resents it. (And understands, because he’s hard to deal with. He has no idea why Charlie still loves him, sometimes.)

Just a few of the secrets he holds close to his chest are being naturally left-handed, hiding it behind the mask of ambidexterity that he taught himself. His complete and utter lack of romantic or sexual attraction, to the point of being repulsed at the idea. His aversion to a frankly maddening amount of sounds, and being born a girl, who hadn’t wanted to change his reproductive organs because they didn’t make him feel distressed and not at home in his own body like his breasts.

The voices in his mind tell him that everyone knows, no matter how hard he’s tried to hide them, and that they’ll hurt him again; Charlie has to constantly reassure him that no one else knows besides the two of them. (But not that he’d never betray him by revealing them. He’ll always trust his familiar, and Charlie knows that.)

Art Dump! (And an excerpt of his appearance from another character’s point of view because I’m lazy lol)

Click on the pictures for better quality and to see the whole thing! (The old one is his first, older design; the second one is his current one.)

[Amos] tries not to stare, taking in his appearance nonetheless. The man who is apparently Merlin seems to be only a couple of inches shorter than him, even from where he’s standing. Long white hair, that shines like freshly fallen snow, rests halfway down his back. It’s locked into thick strands that remind him of strong rope, tied up into a mid-high ponytail. Every side of his head is shaved, showing softer but still coarse hair that glimmers like frost. “Merlin,” Uther calls. “I have someone for you to meet.” He turns, revealing his face. He’s beautiful. He’s Black; his skin is a warm, dark brown. Several scars (one on the left side of his forehead, above his eyebrow; another spanning from his forehead to his nose, ending a little below his eyes; and the last across his left cheek) darker than his skin adorn his face. His eyebrows, eyelashes, and beard (which has a coarse, curly texture) are as white as his hair. His almond shaped eyes are a lighter shade of blue, with orange rings around his pupils. Eyebags darker than his skin, but a different shade than his scars, are under them. The bridge of his nose is prominent, making it curve. An aquiline nose, if he remembers correctly. He hasn’t seen anyone who has it in a while. He’s wearing a dark green bliaut, (that shows some of his chest, and he has to quickly look away) brown pants, a long, hooded blue cape, and brown heeled boots. A necklace, which is only a gem held with black string, rests against his neck. A bracelet is on his right wrist, and a ring is on his right hand’s second finger.

2. Charlie:

Charlie (full name Charlemagne William Ambrosius) seems a little rougher around the edges than his wizard, but he’s still nice (once he gets to know someone).

If he doesn’t know them yet, he won’t hide the fact that he stares them down while gauging their character. And even if he does, if they aren’t Ganieda or Vivian, he’ll still give them the same stare if they say or do something that could register as a possible threat to his beloved. (Yes, he calls Merlin that now. You’re welcome.)

He’ll say the things that Merlin thinks but won’t say, and doesn’t care that he comes off as mean or blunt sometimes either.

No one else’s opinion matters as long as Merlin is safe.

Anyone trying to separate the two of them, no matter for how long, immediately comes off as suspicious to him. People have attempted to take advantage of his familiar’s illness in the past, by convincing him that their actions weren’t real and were things he hallucinated or imagined. Sometimes, they also do the opposite and make him remember things that never happened.

And there’s the separation that still haunts both of them in different ways.

He’d been out hunting (which takes hours, since he’s a 3,000 pound dragon that eats a lot, but at least he only needs to eat every 4-5 days) leaving Merlin behind with their mutual acquaintance, Mordecai. His familiar had been feeling slightly tired, but neither of them were too worried; he’d hopefully sleep it off.

When he returned, Merlin was gone.

After hours of frantically trying to contact him through their telepathic bond multiple times while tracking his scent, he found a monastery.

His companion’s scent led him down to a dungeon, which had a chair with blood at its feet. And it continued in a trail somewhere else.

He had to quell his rising terror and fury to focus on finding him, following the blood and still strong scent upstairs.

Finally, he’d found the door that Merlin seemed to be behind, and he entered quietly when he only heard silence.

Even after seeing the blood, he still wasn’t expecting Merlin on a bed, sheets under him bloodied and stained, two corpses on the floor.

He was curled into himself, staring off at nothing.

They’d tortured him, broken him.

He never wants to see his beloved look that like again.

Art dump and excerpt:

(Like Merlin, the old one is his first, older design; the second one is his current one.)

(Charlemagne stares at [Uther] the whole time, red eyes almost glowing in the dim light.) How is no one else unnerved by him? He’s entirely unsettling, with those red eyes, (at least they have white sclera; that helps with making him look slightly less monstrous) giant, feathered wings colored like lava, and thick-furred body colored like soil and fire. (What kind of dragon has fur and feathers, anyways?) Besides that, the mark of being a familiar adorns his leg, for lack of a better word, unable to be hidden.

Their bond:

(To help with some things, cambions and dragons both age extremely slowly! Cambions age one year in every five years; dragons age one year in every fifty-five years.)

Yes, I did math for this lmao.

(Dragons also turn fully adult at five years old [two hundred seventy-five chronologically]. At a year old [fifty-five], they’re still too small to open their eyes. Five years later [60], they’ve opened, but their teeth haven’t grown in yet. Ten years later [70], they’re able to be weaned off milk. At two years old [110], they’re able to speak. From there, the main changes are their bodies slowly changing into adulthood.)

Merlin and Charlie have been familiars for a long time: over 4,000 years. (I don’t have an exact year yet. 😓) The two of them have been best friends, and inseparable for most of their lives.

Merlin, pre-transition, as a thirteen year old (chronologically 65) on the cusp of puberty, found him abandoned by his parents in the woods. They didn’t think he’d survive for much longer; the only reason he wasn’t classified as a runt was because mammalian dragons only have one offspring at a time.

At a year old (chronologically 55), he was too small to even open his eyes, but he could hear. Merlin’s hands gently ran over his fur, murmuring soothing words, getting him used to the feeling, voice and scent of human, before he gently cradled him in his arms and took him home. The little kit would be eaten by anything opportunistic enough if he didn’t.

Adhan was used to her son’s empathetic nature, but she never expected him to bring home a dragon.

Eventually, she was convinced, though.

Merlin fed him cow’s milk from a wooden bowl, hoping that he would able to digest it. (He was, fortunately.)

He looked down at the kit, colored like soil and fire, and lava all in one, and decided to name him Charlemagne William. He wasn’t going to give him his last name just yet.

Merlin always knew he was more intelligent than an average animal, no matter what anyone else thought, and talked to him as though he was human even back then.

Soon, it became commonplace to see the two of them together, Merlin either holding the little dragon in his arms, or carrying him in the blanket that he wrapped around himself.

Charlie became more affectionate as well, always curling against his side or on his chest.

By the next five years, when Merlin aged into fourteen, there was no concept of the two ever separating, but there was confusion when Charlie stayed the same size and age. (He’d opened his eyes only recently, and his teeth weren’t coming in; he couldn’t eat solid food as a result.)

Amidst Merlin’s worry over his dragon not seeming to grow, puberty slammed into him.

And he didn’t feel like a girl. It wasn’t his clothes; he’d always loved outfits that go down to his knees or farther. It was his body.

He felt too feminine, felt like he was all blossoming curves and soft features. He hated seeing his breasts grow, and he began to bind them, hiding the fact from everyone; fortunately, his healing factor helped offset any negative effects, and everyone was focused on getting Ganieda and Vivian together, anyways.

(Ugh, romance.)

But what he would be if he wasn’t a girl? A man? (Yes, is his answer, deep down.) That was ludicrous.

This would pass.

(It did not pass.)

At night, when everything was quiet, he vented to his dragon about everything, gently cradling him in his arms. How he didn’t feel like a girl and didn’t feel at home in his body. How certain sounds set him off, and people thought he would outgrow it, but he wasn’t, and how he was terrified of telling his family these things. He had to be a good daughter.

(Charlie would nuzzle him, understanding every word, purring as loudly as he could to comfort his beloved wizard.)

Charlie finally started growing more teeth when Merlin was sixteen, chronologically eighty years and six months then. He slowly weaned his dragon, introducing him to different types of meats and other foods. Apparently, they’re omnivorous, but it’s usually easier to just eat meat instead because of their size.

Despite the relief at the fact that his dragon just aged very slowly, his body dysphoria refused to leave. He knew that it wasn’t normal to hate looking at yourself in the mirror, and hate becoming a woman. (Especially since Ganieda accepted it, and loved it, happy to grow older so she and Vivian could marry sooner.)

Sometimes, when he was sure that everyone was asleep, he’d shapeshift into a man under the moonlight streaming through his window. He’d stare at himself, reverently running his hands over his face, quietly walking around his room in the body he so desperately wanted.

But he pushed it down, keeping it a guilty secret. Womanhood was still important to him; he had to be a good daughter, a good sister, and he loved them too much to just leave. But how would they react, if he did tell them?

(Charlie always treated him with the same love, man or woman, affectionately nuzzling him and purring. His eyes held an understanding that he wished everyone else would have.)

Maybe… he could broach the topic with his mother.

He did, eventually, and she gently stroked his steadily growing locs as he curled against her, speaking in nothing louder than a whisper the whole time. (Charlie rested against his feet, quietly watching them both. Adhan easily believed her son about his intelligence, now.)

She didn’t have any advice, in the end. But she kissed his forehead and told him that she’d always love him, no matter what. And if she did end up having a son, then she’d be blessed with the most amazing one she could have.

Twenty-five years later, at twenty-one (one hundred five years old), he shapeshifted into a man again, this time using his magic to make this form his true one. He cried when he was finally able to have the body he’d wanted for so long permanently.

Charlie wrapped around his legs, nuzzling him, and he picked him up, holding his dragon close. He purred loudly, sweet and comforting, even as Merlin’s tears soaked his fur.

Another seventeen years later, when Merlin was twenty-four (one hundred twenty-two), and Charlie was two (one hundred ten); Merlin was reading by the fire, and Charlie was curled against his right side.

Charlie looked up at his wizard adoringly, letting out soft purrs. He wanted to speak, talk to him just as much, and thank him for everything he’s done.

Merlin’s hand reached down to gently scratch his head, and he leaned into the contact, wishing he could speak even more.

Maybe… he could try.

“Merlin?” He said quietly, doing his best to not wriggle in excitement so the surprise wasn’t spoiled.

His wizard looked up at the unfamiliar voice, brow furrowing in confusion. After searching the room, his gaze went back down to him. “Charlie, did you hear that?”

“Yes,” was his simple answer.

Merlin’s mouth dropped open, eyes widening in shock. “What- You just talked.”

He smiled proudly, tail thumping as his wizard’s brain broke. “You can talk.”

After the subsequent reveal, and excitement had died down, they had long conversations that lasted for hours. At the end of it, their bond had only strengthened, and now, they knew things about each other that no one else ever would.

Twenty-three more years later, when Merlin was twenty-nine (one hundred forty-five), his schizophrenia began to set in.

He began to hear people calling his name when they hadn’t; began seeing things out of the corner of his eyes, with nothing being there when he turned around, confused. His food began to taste terrible when he knew it was the same as everyone else’s, and he became terrified of it being poisoned.

Then the voices and delusions started.

They started out positive, but over time they began to tell him crueler things.

His delusions told him that someone has invaded their home and is walking around (he can hear their footsteps), bugs were crawling on his hands in the dark until he turned a light on, or touched Charlie so his glowing spread to his hands.

And they happened over, and over, and over again, but every time it was real until he came out of it and remembered that they aren’t.

At least they usually didn’t last for that long.

But his hallucinations started getting worse, and instead of just hearing nonexistent voices, people and creatures appeared.

Sometimes it made absolute sense that a stranger was in their house. And they weren’t a threat, simply doing things that made him inquire why they were there.

Charlie, who was up to his knees now, was determined to help his wizard.

He suggested putting bells on the door so Merlin can think back and remember if they rang or not before he panics about a stranger being in their house. (It isn’t foolproof, but it does help.)

When the gaps in Merlin’s memory began to get worse, it didn’t matter. He’d remember for him. He’d eat some of his food first so that he knew that it wasn’t poisoned. He’d stay awake when he was afraid of falling asleep.

Merlin took care of him first. It was his turn.

After they fought in battles, and Merlin’s sensitivity to loud noises increased, along with new trauma, his stance didn’t change.

He’d breathe on him instead of calling his name so he doesn’t get as startled, and he’d walk across a room (in the rare occasion of that) instead of yelling for him. He’d do his absolute best to not yell at someone making him angry, no matter how much he wanted to.

He’d understand when Merlin got snappy because of his senses being bombarded with too much, and never blame him for it. He’d lay his head on his stomach as a comforting weight when panic became too much.

He’d say that he loves him, and he’s not going anywhere, he never is, and repeat those words over and over again, as many times as he needs to.

Merlin was sixty-five (three hundred twenty-five), when he became immortal. He could’ve used the spell that makes aging stop at thirty, like Ganieda, but the main reasons he didn’t was because he wanted to have natural white hair, not just changing his hair color, and he thought looking older would make him seem more distinguished. (If he’d aged badly, he would’ve shifted back to his younger appearance and kept the white hair. He didn’t, though.)

Charlie was a fully grown adult at five years old (three hundred thirteen), and just his head was as big as Merlin’s torso.

They went flying together now, and Merlin had crafted a saddle himself. Sometimes it was just a slow, leisurely fly for the sake of it; sometimes it was high speed, filled with loops and falling through the air. They still hardly ever argued about anything, but in the very rare occasion they did, they’d stay in the same room, spending time together in silence so they can calm down and see the other’s point of view. They always, always talked things out in the end.

They share the same feelings towards each other: I love you. I love you so much that I can’t fathom spending time away from you unless it’s absolutely necessary, and I’ve willingly chosen to stay with you for the rest of our lives. This bond was formed by a labor of love, and nothing can ever separate us, except for death.

I know things about you that no one else ever will. Typical familial terms like father figure or brother don’t fit us, because our relationship is far too complex to dilute it down into one role.

Soft whispers and gentle touches define us.

I am not leaving you. I am never leaving you.

One morning, after they woke up intertwined together, like always, there was a mark of swirls and leaves on Charlie’s right front leg, and when Merlin looked at his own body, there was one on his right bicep.

No one knew what they meant, until Merlin’s throat was slit after an ambush.

He didn’t die immediately. He choked on his own blood for at least ten minutes before he passed out, terrified of dying, hoping Charlie was safe, and would be able to recover in the end.

He woke up in a meadow filled with flowers, any signs of his violent death gone.

Before he could panic, a voice called his name.

He turned to see a being with completely dark, blue-ish gray skin.

Her hair, braided in a fishtail, long, feathered wings that almost dragged on the ground, and eyes, subtly glowing, were all completely white.

Golden earrings pierced her ears; a necklace of the same color with a red gem rested against her neck. A circlet that matched both was on her head.

Amara, goddess of life.

He immediately knelt in front of her, averting his eyes. He knew the legends, had seen paintings and murals of her. But why was she here?

Charlie appearing out of nowhere startled him. Completely forgetting about proper etiquette in front of a goddess, he ran to his dragon, stroking his fur and hugging him tightly.

Charlie hadn’t been hurt at all, unlike him. He didn’t know what had happened; he’d been trying to find him since their separation, and suddenly… he was here.

Amara had been quietly watching, smiling. She offered to explain, making both of them look at her; Merlin sheepishly apologized for his lack of decorum. She laughed and waved it off, understanding.

Charlie rested his head against his chest, and Merlin carded his fingers through his fur after they sat down. Amara explained that Merlin wasn’t going to die permanently: his heritage of being the former Anti-Christ had given him resurrective immortality. It was far more pragmatic than to make a new Anti-Christ every time one died. The markings on the two of them were from them becoming familiars, a bond of a precious animal companion and a wizard.

Charlie had received some of Merlin’s powers without them realizing it, which meant that if one of them died, they both would, and they would resurrect together. They also had a telepathic bond, like Merlin and Ganieda.

There was no spell to perform for them to become familiars. It was because they loved each other that much.

They’re still one of the only familiar pairs in the world, even now. Many wizards have animal companions, of course, but none of them have formed that bond created by a labor of love.

Art dump:

THEY ARE EVERYTHING TO ME. YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND.

Artist credits: HappyArt9, cat-gh0ul, NaldThal, heropaws, biposi, and honeyxmonkey!

[typingatlightspeed]

i'm curious: what all inspired you to make the mercs what supernatural beings they are in monsterous intent?

Originally it was just gonna be Demo the werewolf and that's it, but eventually the idea to make it into a whole-ass AU happened, and it kinda got silly from there. For Scout I'll be honest it was largely because I freakin' love fauns and satyrs. Always have. And modern deer-style fauns are absolutely adorable, and I really like the combination of cute, horny, and impulse-driven, which is very Scout. Plus a monster form that messes with his legs seemed Right for the guy whose job is Runs Fast. I also project onto him a little bit let us be honest with ourselves here. (I also cannot shut up clearly have adhd and am the littlest sibling who constantly feels inadequate and like I gotta prove myself.)

With Soldier, it's the whole yelling at severed heads on a fence thing from Meet the Soldier. What if the reason he had those severed heads wasn't just to fake an audience, but because he collects them? Dullahans and headless, what if he uses those heads to disguise himself? I read up on the actual folklore and then played with it A Lot, plus Cephalophores (depictions of beheaded saints carrying their own heads in their hands) are really cool imagery, so I went with it. Plus while in actual Irish folklore Dullahans are Faeries, they're also very death-focused, and you'll see them depicted as undead in media a lot, and with Merasmus being the guy he is, the connection just Worked. Basically canon gave me a really easy lay-up of a monster type for Soldier, lol. And Silas Mann jokes as a bonus. Gods help us if Soldier ever gets a horse. (I totally wanna give him a whip made of a human spine eventually.)

Pyro took a while to figure out. I knew I wanted him to be something that couldn't disguise himself easily, hence always being in the gasmask, but I hemmed and hawwed a lot. Someone (I wish I remembered who) pointed me to djinn and how they're made of "smokeless flame" in myth, so I did a bunch of reading and, again, kind of made my version for this AU. I try to make sure to put a lot of the actual real-world folklore and myth in, but also give stuff its own fun little spin, too. :3

Demo being a werewolf was the whole point, tbh. When I first wrote Predation, it was because there was a little bit of werewolf smut in the fandom, but all of it made Sniper the werewolf. I get the vibes, but Demo actually had a wolfman cosmetic set for Halloween! It only made sense he'd get to be the werewolf! Since Sniper had the monster (vampire) hunter costume, he got to be the guy "hunting" werewolf!Demo, and that was how it all got started.

For Engie I couldn't think of a monstrous transformation that would feel right, and since he was the skeptic in Predation, it only made sense that he'd be very unknowledgable and uninvested in the supernatural (at least until he had to be involved with it lol) so instead I just leaned into the transhumanist vibe that Engie sometimes has and went hard on him slowly fashioning himself into a cyborg. Pyro's apprehensions vs. Engie's views mirror the way I in real life am of two minds about properly advanced cybernetics vs. removing healthy body parts.

Heavy was the first after Demo, with Sniper pointing out he was half-jotun in The Good Folk. I knew I wanted him to be a giant of some sort, and with his Siberian background and cold and ice vibes, being part frost giant just seemed right, yanno? Plus the eventual opportunity for big size difference play was something I couldn't resist. Giant man, giant everything. owo

Medic was a tough one for a while, too. Him taking up magic was directly because of his line from the Merasmus boss fight event, where he goes "I must learn this black magic!" and generally being hype about all the magic bullshit lol. Him being a garuda was harder. I knew I wanted to give him wings; that was never a doubt lbr I am a SUCKER for winged humanoids and doubly so winged Medic. Finding the right monster was the hard part. I didn't wanna go harpy simply because Scout was already a Roman monster and got turned by a Greek one, and I didn't wanna double-dip in those mythological waters. And in Buddhist traditions, Garuda are a type of inhuman creature that appear either as giant birds or anthropomorphic birds. My first exposure to the name was as random bird monsters in Final Fantasy games, lol. So I figured Medic going for that and still kinda fucking it up (being a dove rather than a brahminy kite) would be a fun way to make him a bird man off the beaten path.

Sniper being a monsterfucking human, as mentioned above, was inspired by his vampire hunter halloween costume, lol. Also because lbr out of all of them he seems most like the kind of guy who would do a stakeout to get railed by a werewolf.

Spy needed to be a trickster. That was imperative. Ideally a shapeshifter. Nothing from French folklore jumped out at me enough that I wanted to use it, and finally I gave in and went with one of my favourite monsters: kitsune. Plus it gave me an excuse to be a weeb and my god I look for any excuse there. (I'm not a huge anime/manga weeb I'm a huge language/culture/food weeb lol) It ended up working in my favour too since him not even actually being a human French dude but a Japanese fox who cannot create human children means that the Spy Is Scout's Dad reveal in 2017 didn't hit MI nearly as hard as it could have, lol. Thank fuck, really. Also instead it lead to a hilariously squicky misunderstanding on RED Demo's part lol.

Spy's a monster but he's not a monster, Tav, jeez.

Also: Miss P as a human diviner just makes sense. In addition to her being a mage fitting in the world and giving Medic another, better role model than just Merasmus, it makes sense what with half of her job being surveillance of and managing the teams!

[thetypedwriter]

The Bear the Nightingale Book Review

The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden Book Review

This book is so different from what I would normally read. 

I was browsing the shelves at Barnes and Noble as I’m prone to do when I picked up a YA book with a beautiful cover.

I don’t recall what the book was, but I decided to check out the reviews for it on Goodreads to determine whether I should purchase it or not. 

On Goodreads, the overwhelming statement being made about this forgotten YA book was that it was the poor man’s version of The Bear and the Nightingale. 

Intrigued, I wandered a shelf or two over until I found The Bear and the Nightingale itself and decided to buy it. The Bear and the Nightingale at its core is a novel steeped in Russian folklore.

It tells the story of Vasilisa Petrovna, a young girl with the powers to see spirits and otherworldly creatures. 

Starting from Vasya’s birth up until she’s on the brink of womanhood, you learn about Vasya’s mother Marina, who dies in childbirth, all of Vasya’s siblings, her father, Pyotr, and their small Russian village on the outskirts of metropolitan cities like Moscow and Vladimir. 

The plot revolves around Vasya’s deep connection with the spirits and guardians that live in and around her home and the disturbance that shakes them and the village with the arrival of a priest, Konstantin Nikonovich. 

Father Konstantin thinks that Vasya’s village is backwards for their savage reverence towards the old gods and sets the village and its people on a path of devoted fear and cruel judgment. 

Soon enough, everyone thinks Vasya is a cursed witch and the people who once loved her now cast her aside, both out of cowardice and obedience from Father Konstantin.

However, the person who hates Vasya the most is her stepmother, a righteous, pious woman who is the only other person in the village who can see the spirits. 

Unlike Vasya, who sees the creatures as guardians, Anna sees the creatures as devils out to damn her and her daughter, a curse she has borne to bear and has never been able to get rid of. 

As the village falls away from the old, traditional times, the spirits grow weak and infirm. From this fragility and vulnerability, the devil, Medved the Bear, grows stronger.

\With his newfound power, he turns the dead into upyrs, brings about bitterly freezing winters, dry summers, and poor harvests, cursing the people of the village slowly but surely. 

The only one who can stop Medved is his brother, Morozko, the winter king known as death himself. Teaming up with Morozko, Vasya must fight back against the evil that threatens her village, putting herself and her loved ones in perilous danger. 

I feel like there’s more to this plot and yet, this is the best summary I can come up with. At its core, The Bear and the Nightingale is a retelling of the Russian fairytale of Frost, the blue-eyed winter demon.

In the fairytale (which Vasya’s nurse Dunya tells her at the beginning of the story) a witch-girl from the village comes across Morozko, who is so taken with her beauty and courage that he gives her a bountiful dowry upon her return home. 

Arden takes this classic fairytale and turns Vasya from a beautiful damsel into a fierce witch that refuses to marry, be sent off to a convent, or be shackled in any way to God or to man. 

The most astounding part of this book for me was the Russian folklore influence. Folk stories of any kind have always been fascinating and it’s always so intriguing to learn about myths and stories from other cultures.

I’ve never heard of the Frost demon and while Arden turns the story contemporary with Vasya being an independent woman, the rest of the story is steeped in Russian lore, language, and history. 

The way that Arden wrote this book reads like a fairytale. With a lot less focus on dialogue and traditional methods of exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution, the book rises and falls like a fairytale would. 

It was a lot of telling not showing, which I’m usually fiercely opposed to, but in this case, it was inherently intentional. It’s as if, Dunya, Vasya’s nurse, was telling the story the whole time, from start to finish.

It reads in a lyrical, poetic way, very different from other novels and a breath of fresh air for pure ingenuity. 

The characters themselves were also good. Just like in a fairytale, they don’t have the deepest of characterizations, but that’s also not the point. They’re archetypes, lessons for young ears to hear and heed.

I find it a bit strange that Vasya had the mentality of a young woman growing up in the year 2024, but it’s also forgivable. Arden wasn’t trying to create a fully functioning fairytale that’s wholly accurate. 

There are some other critiques I have, especially towards the ending. It felt like the climax came out of nowhere, with not much of a build to hit the ground running as a reader, and the death of a certain character was inexplicably vague and unimportant. 

But Arden’s decision to base Vasya’s story on a fairytale, twist it with modern sensibilities, and sprinkle in some magic and poetry—is a concoction that clearly worked as the book is a national bestseller. 

Recommendation: Overall, I enjoyed The Bear and the Nightingale. While it’s not something I would usually read, as stated at the beginning, I liked the reset. Every once in a while it’s refreshing (and needed) to get away from the typical YA love triangle or slow-burn romance, from the humdrum fantasies and the summer flings. 

It deepens my appreciation for literature, expands my horizons, and teaches me something new, which—isn’t that what we’re always looking for as readers?

Score: 7/10