18+ MDNI 18+

I genuinely can’t believe there’s a fic of senshi eating pussy when he’d want HIS pussy eaten

Strong body bent in half, thighs easily parting to allow you access to his cunt, the smell of musk and sweat hitting you as you inch closer to the spot between his legs, laying so close you can see each individual pubic hair poking through the thin clothing he’s wearing, can even taste the salty taste just by looking at the dark spot on the light fabric.

You don’t even bother taking off his underwear as you lap at his cunt and suck his clit, hearing the obscene squelching sound mingling with whines and whimpers that escape his lips, and watching as the thin fabric gets soaked in your spit, before getting practically swallowed by his fat pussy lips.

Thinking about the sweet gasps and squeaks that escape his lips, the way chubby hands aimlessly grasp at the air as you bury your tongue inside him, hips erratically bucking up as you work your tongue into him the way you would with your cock.

Thinking about making him cum over and over, having him flush red from head to toe, thighs practically shaking from overstimulation but refusing to let up his grip on you, forcing you to eat him out til you’re on the verge of passing out.

𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡.𝟐 — 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠

Part One || Part Two

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Leaving the Cyberlife store is an... experience for the broken android. After the workforce and standing idle in the store for so long, you finally bring König home, where he learns what it would mean to be your companion. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.3 k 𝐚/𝐧 : sincerely, thank you all for the lovely comments and interactions on the first chapter ♡ (my android son is so cute ahgkgj-) 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : fluff, hurt/comfort(?), domestic fluff, slow burn?

𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋. They had no programming to want. There were no lines of code that enabled them to dream. They were machines built to serve.

In theory, an android should not feel fear.

The WX-400, or König, glanced down at where your hand met his. The synthetic skin clasping imperceptibly onto yours. So warm and soft... and so much smaller in his own.

It kept him grounded when you guided him onto the sleek floors of the store, his sensors coming alight with all the new input his body was receiving. From being stuck in a paralyzing stasis, to feeling the cool spring sun on his skin; the slight chill of the store in his mouth; seeing the detailed cracks embedded into the pavement of the sidewalk.

His body felt like it was short circuiting. Jolted to life too fast, even if you had only led him to the curb. That soft smile on your face when he looked for assurance, still holding onto him.

What would happen if he let go? It didn't feel right to think that way. He was sure the world would not stop spinning below his feet if he did.

"König?"

Your voice made him snap out of it. Those stormy eyes of his hesitantly trailing up to meet yours.

"This is our ride," you tilted your head, gesturing to the polished self-driving car that sat on the corner of the street.

He didn't respond. Eyes flickering away, still holding onto your hand. It was a cute gesture. Maybe he just forgot to stop holding it? Or maybe the android didn't feel comfortable letting go without permission?

Hm...

You decided then: owning an android was hard.

The entire ride back to the house was a mix of stolen glances. Each entirely new to the other.

You, watching the way his soft eyes followed the people passing by on the street. Androids and humans alike. Watching, but never saying a word.

König was a sight to behold, and the smile that crawled onto your lips was inevitable.

Such a large android. Tall and built with the purpose of lifting ten times that of the average human... moving so gently, and with a hesitance for the world you'd only ever seen in stray animals.

And occasionally, when he felt you shift to watch your own window or the red-green lights of traffic. He'd consider you from the corner of his eye. Unreadable, before you could catch him and his eyes snapped back forwards.

People and buildings passed by in a blur of lights. Shops and a park filled with trees. Androids always obediently trailing after the humans who owned them, unable to do much but smile and tend to the children or shopping bags. Task after task, demand after demand.

When the car stopped at a red light, his eyes landed on a small girl, her pink rain jacket covered in a light sprinkle of rain. Jumping in every puddle she could with a giggle. The young android next to her, a dark-skinned man with long hair, smiled and did the same with her. Each taking a turn splashing gently in a puddle, unaware of the rest of the world around them, only enjoying the remnants of the rain.

Something in that image, the adoring smile on the android's face as he watched the girl play in innocent bliss, it stirred something for a long while, even after the car began to roll away.

He didn't know where the two of you were going. The thought of 'home' having no real meaning to him.

Back at the sites, the company only had two trucks to house their android workers. Rows of three in each truck, filled with small metal compartments for the mechanical men to stand in idly until the next job. Under lock and chain, so nobody stole company property, with no light except the one that blinked from his LED...

Soon, the commercial buildings melted into a quaint suburban neighborhood. Run down houses, but clearly lived in, with warm lights filling their windows.

Many had been put out of work due to the rise of android labor. He had heard one of the site managers complaining about it often.

König's eyes flickered over you for a moment again.

Did you work? Have a home or a family to go back to? People you lived with?

"We're here," you gestured sheepishly, unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out of the car. Your hand finally slipping from his.

'Here' was a two story house with peeling paint and a handful of missing shingles. It looked like the surrounding houses. Puddles and mud around the sunken walkway from the rain, nothing but scrawny hedges growing yet.

König followed suit, ducking his head low to climb out of the car unscathed, towering back to his full height. Maybe the tallest android model built, at an impressive six foot ten inches.

He noticed you staring and his eyes hit the ground.

He was just-an amazing looking android, and his height was only more impressive to you. It was really hard not to smile. An android...

"Come on," you waved for him to follow you.

The closer you both got, the more he could see the wear. The fogged windows, the flickering outside light. Up the wooden porch that creaked dangerously under his weight, to the solid front door. That looked new.

"Well, here it is, home," you shrugged, the front door swinging open for the two of you.

"I just moved in," you explain as the android stepped through the doorframe to join you (having to bow his head again), peered around curiously. "The house is a bit old, but I'm going to fix it up for us," you nodded, looking around at the expanse of cardboard boxes in the living room. So sure of yourself.

Us?

The circular LED on his temple flickered yellow, a sign of stress that disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Here," you held your hand out for him, producing a small silver key for him to take. "House key," you explained with a sort of bounce in your toes.

It was for him, he realized.

He tilted his head, taking it from your hand, cool fingers brushing against yours as he considered you. Again.

You looked really... How should he describe it? Happy? Excited?

And you were. You had a house. A beautiful house that just needed a bit of care put into it, and an android unlike any you'd ever seen to help you make it a home.

"Well, I'd show you around but there's not much," you scratched at your neck with a sigh. It was a big house, just empty so far, and for the amount of stuff you had brought... You'd need a lot more to make it homey like you intended when you purchased the house.

You led him down the hall, shoes tapping against the wooden floorboards, dust lining the floors, but the house actually looked pretty sturdy to him.

"There's the living room, connects to the kitchen," you listed off as you walked by, "Washroom, and the basement door." You finished, pointing off to the left until you made it to the end of the hall. Still peering ahead towards a back door. Also new, he noted.

"Up the stairs is my room and a couple of... well empty rooms," you shrugged.

You had a lot on your plate, granted. Your eyes skimming over the backyard with a sigh. If you wanted flowers this year, they'd have to be planted fast... with the rest of the house to do, how hard could it be?

You spun around and faced König with a soft optimism, leading him back to the living room.

"Well, lets start with some of the bigger boxes," you nodded, the plan seeming to come together in your mind. "The movers did most of the heavy lifting, so I don't have to worry about pushing a mattress upstairs or moving all those dressers..."

It was true, there was a large cream colored couch already in the living room, along with a large white TV stand pushed against the wall.

It looked almost as big as you were, and the android found it a fitting comparison. Imagining you pushing that thing all by yourself just- didn't work in his mind.

König followed your lead, starting with the box on top of the pile that trailed along the hallway. Each one labelled quickly in sharpie.

Photos, Decorations, Dishes, Cleaning Supplies, Towels. All stuff that looked like it was supposed to be downstairs.

König decided though, to stick to the living room, carefully cutting open the taped up boxes with a precision that seemed impressive. Even manual. Carefully laying out photos and old picture frames you had decided were important.

There were a few that caught his eye. His slate colored irises lingering on your face as you smiled or laughed in a few of them. Surrounded by what he deduced were your closest friends or family members... all based on how happy you looked, or how you moved your hands to hold each person.

"You can leave the bigger ones aside König."

He nearly jumped.

"I'll put them up later," you assured him.

He glanced over his shoulder, where you now sat on the floor, fiddling with some small box in your hand.

He looked back to the photo's, a bit more hesitant to touch them now before he set them back into the box and turned towards you. The circular LED on his temple fluttering a yellow.

"I could put them up for you," he offered quietly. Given a drill or nails for them, it wouldn't take that long. In fact, the tools might've even felt familiar in his hand.

The sound of his voice, soft but rich and deep made you smile so wide he thought he had said something out of line.

He shouldn't have questioned you, he realized the mistake. His deeply scarred hands imperceptibly clasping into loose fists at his sides.

"Thank you," you began, "You could do that after we paint the walls tomorrow," you nodded, glancing around at the dim room around the two of you. "I was thinking maybe a light green? Or maybe even a smoky color?" you thought aloud, clearly having been undecided on the matter.

The LED turned blue again. The tension in his body suddenly melting away as you thanked him.

"Do you have a good color in mind?" You asked him then, suddenly wondering if androids had opinions. Or more specifically, if König did.

He shook his head quickly.

"No... favorite ones?"

And he shook his head again, his eyes fluttering downward. Was he... supposed to have one?

You only offered another soft smile, figuring as much. "We'll both come up with something," you assured quietly. Those soft eyes of yours trailing back up to him as you finally undid the box in your lap, pulling out a carefully wrapped vase. The beautiful glossy ceramic glinting in the fading light from the windows. Holding it up for him to take.

"It's going to be easier with you around," you joked softly, but it seemed true. The depth of your words had a faith in him that felt... unfamiliar.

He took the vase gently from your hands, his eyes flickering around as if he meant to say something, before he quietly turned and put it down onto a small table.

He returned to doing as you instructed, placing all of the big things into the room, leaving the walls bare for now.

The rest of the hours went by like that, you occasionally stopping to ask him something that seemed profound to his android brain.

Why would you want to know if he had a favorite animal? Or if he liked music?

What use could he have for preferences like that?

But he always answer politely, if not curtly, until the living room at least had the lights and the TV connected.

You sat down onto the couch with a huff, taking a moment to relax after the long day you'd had.

In truth, buying and owning an android never really seemed to have priority. This house did.

You glanced over at König, who was still working away quietly. Folding empty cardboard boxes up neatly and setting them aside for recycling.

"König."

He stopped when you addressed him, turning his attention back to you before he could grab another box and continue. Waiting for another command.

But, he was working too hard.

You patted the spot on the couch next to you.

And when he didn't move or seem to understand the gesture, your face lit up in amusement. "Come sit, relax for a bit," you trailed off. He was an android, sure, but it didn't mean... well that he was a machine.

The thought made your chest feel heavy suddenly. It was easy, with how human-like they looked, to forget that they weren't human.

The large android did as you said and sat down. The cushions dipping beneath him and making you lean that way with a small laugh.

He was so rigid, even for an android. Sitting up straight, scarred hands on his knees, not even leaning against the back of the couch. Unsure really what to do without someone's input.

'Relax?' Did he really know how to?

König watched you from the corner of his eye again as you flicked on the TV. Your feet pulled up, sinking comfortably into the cushions. Your knees almost brushing his.

It reminded him of the store, only a few hours earlier.

How warm you were next to him, and how that smile lingered on your lips as you watched the TV tiredly.

The moment you turned to catch his gaze, he straightened again, eyes forward, pretending to watch the screen. His LED blinking that sunny yellow.

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. ♡

@riotakire @jonathansmarbles @peter-the-pan @distinguishedprincesstrash @sleepyisoffline

@asteria33 @timetothirst @sleeplessskeleton @lady-boketto @mionacaped

Neglected Beta!Y/N And the bad pack! 141

Part 2

(Warning! not a little a few unpleasant descriptions, a description of the abduction,Mention of bullying , other traumatic moments , etc. In the end ,After all, this is angst,but with a good(?) ending,there may be mistakes in words-English is not my first language,the characters are adults, implied SA)

You're walking along the highway, and to the left and right there's a dark, terrible forest, and it seems that your death is about to leap out of the darkness, that every rustle of leaves and whiff of wind whispers about your imminent death, and only the rare passing cars give you a tiny, tiny hope that you'll live, that John is back, that Price is about to run out of the car and hug you, but reality cuts like a knife.

It's starting to rain, a nasty drizzle, and the humidity is making everything worse, and the fog is settling in and even the already sparse streetlights light the road even less.

Mommy said there were monsters lurking in the darkness.

Mommy said to be a good girl and not to walk at night.

A red old car stops in front of you and you stop as the headlights are almost blinding and illuminate you in this terrifying darkness. A slight smile, tired and exhausted, appears on your lips, but just as quickly disappears when you realize it's not Soap, or Price, or even a nice family willing to help.

Three men get out of the car. Your doom is coming to you, stepping on your heels, and you want to just run away, but the forest seems even more dense, you want to fall down and cry, asking for help, but hope is completely abandoned when the one who was the skinniest of them all, says in his hoarse voice: "Sit down with us, bunny, we'll take you for a ride".

Unconsciously you take a step back, you want to run away, but their disgusting hands pull you along, dragging you like a piece of meat, not caring about any moral qualities. They shove you in the back seat and don't even let you squeak.

Their hands touched everywhere, slipped under your thin sundress, and squeezed your legs as you drove and you couldn't even squeak in fear.

The big guy behind the wheel took your phone, and the one next to him was not shy about touching you.

The basement they dragged you into was cold, damp, and dark, lit only by a dim, flickering light bulb, and the stained old mattress was horrifying.

It's all right, Price will knock their teeth out! Your pack remembered you were gone long ago and are on their way anyway, they've pinpointed the location, they're gonna save you.

But will they?

"Damn, Soap, you're a hero.... Didn't think you'd pick up a couple finds"-said Gas, leaning forward to whisper to Soap.

When Johnny burst into the house with three hotties under his arm, no one even wondered "where's the beta?". Price frowned, but when the blonde winked playfully at him, the old man was lost and forgotten, and when the two girls jumped into his lap, he was ready to howl at the moon like a damn wolf.

Ghost, being ice cold, couldn't help but hold back a smile, noticing the colorful brunette with tattoos, and the soap smiled haughtily.

"Damn dog"-mumbled Ghost as the brunette that sat on his hip squirmed her hips on him, rousing him.

The clothes came off even before the drink ran out.

You sit on the mattress damp from the excessive dampness of the basement, hugging your knees with your arms, mentally waiting for the moment when your pack bursts into the basement. The door creaks open and you jump up reflexively, but only a tall, thin man with a yellow tan, a weird curly haircut and a bandage, dressed in a silly beach shirt and shorts walks into the basement. He hisses angrily, "idiots!" but as he gets closer he can't help but smile, mumbling, "okay, she's cute for a beta."

You head spins and everything moves apart under you feet as you head goes blank and vivid images flash before you eyes. You are just fire, you and only you on this stage, there is only you in this world.

You feel a touch on your shoulders, a soft stroking of your hair, and you turn, meeting Ghost's loving gaze. His eyes sparkle at the sight of you, and his mask is off. He's as handsome as you imagined him to be, and his hands reach for your face, pulling you in for a loving kiss before sliding gently down to your waist. You feel hot, with his kisses on your body and his smile, and everything around you shines with yellow light like heaven and you feel safe.

"I hope that girl doesn't fall off, asshole"-pahabic laughter echoes above you, but you don't hear it, don't understand. It's not Ghost whose caresses you feel.

You wake up on the mattress and wake up confusedly, horrified to find that.... You didn't want to-- To see. You didn't want to know! Oh, no, just no, please.

No clothes at all.

You start sobbing in despair, sobbing so loudly that one of the big guys comes down and through reluctance and anger, throws an old T-shirt at you when you beg for your clothes back.

It smells of one of them, smells of its captor, of dust and sweat, but you can do exactly nothing, just hastily putting it on to hide your body just a little.

The food showed up the next day. When the pot-bellied man brought a plate of leftovers from the chicken, a couple of whole chicken legs and a quarter of a tomato. That was all the food for the entire day.

When the main one of all came down to the basement to check on their victim, you asking with desperation : "can I go to the bathroom? ". You hope they'll take you upstairs and maybe like a cool lady you'll run away, but it all goes awry when he puts down an old rusty bucket.

"what's this? " you say, hoping you've misunderstood, but the man says with a sneer, "won't be stupid."

It was hard to wake up from sleep, and Price was the first to wake up. Climbing out of bed, he sighed heavily, but noticing a girl sprawled out on the bed without a blanket, he playfully slapped her ass before laughing playfully as he stood up.Grabbing his phone from the counter, he first checked all the calls, and noticing the new ones, he snorted incomprehensibly as he scrolled through the messages. Why was the beta calling them, and what the hell was going on? He was in the kitchen, making a mug of coffee, when the blonde he'd been with threw her arms around him and John instantly forgot all about it, putting his phone aside.

And everything seemed really fine, the omega numbers were in their pocket, they had one last meeting with the administration of the distribution center before they were allowed to take any omegas into their pack, but....

The hellcats stole their money. Price was the first to notice this as he looked into his wallet, about to head to the center.

"Those bitches stole from us!"-shouted Gas, leaving his room hurriedly:he hadn't found his watch, but the most hurtful thing was losing the damn ghost ring-an expensive gold man's ring that he wore as a gift.

"And anyway, where's the beta?"-said Price also irritably:it wasn't quite time to deal with the theft when they were late for a meeting.

"She's not in her room"-Gas replied, and Ghost just mumbled, "what the fuck does 'pick me up from the store' mean?"

It was a goddamn shock.And they were seriously fucked up.Soap nervously tried to call their beta while Ghost was on his way to the store, but got nothing but a recording of the girl leaving the store.

"Next time you'll clean up after her yourself, amigo," Curly man says in disgust squeamishly grabbing the bucket, but the big man only laughs, quickening his step to further annoy curly, "Maybe we should just let her use our bathroom. "

A slight hope of the slightest goodness instills itself in you, unconsciously pulling you forward, wanting to hear more.

"No way, you idiot, someone will see her. It's easier to stop feeding that bitch"?"

Tell why? Why do you have to go through all this? Why do you have to be a waste of space, and why are you... Not needed by your pack?

Over time, you get used to the sound of droplets dripping from the ceiling, the flickering of the lamp, and other people's hands on your body.

No one will come. No one needs you. 'Have they noticed you disappeared?. You don't know.

Maybe they've already been given an omega and they've forgotten about you.

But the search was on. Fucking week after week, every fucking day they tried to find any clue, and the police were in on it too.

It was bloody embarrassing to explain to the police why their beta was without a pack tag, embarrassing for Price not to remember what color your eyes were, and embarrassing for Soap that it was his fault this happened.

It wasn't even about being a beta, or an omega, it was about being a girl, a girl who was alone on the highway at night. A girl who was afraid and could be attacked at any moment and disappeared without a trace.

Everything changed when a month later a signal was received: the phone was turned on.

The whole squad came to that old shack, an old house somewhere on the very outskirts, in one of the most disadvantaged areas of the city.

Ghost remembered the moment. He was making his way through the house before he noticed the open basement door when everyone thought it was too late.

He ran down the stairs until-- Until he saw you, and his heart sank with horror and pain. So small in that huge basement, you sat with your knees drawn up to your chest, biting your nails and staring at the wall opposite. A frail, thin creature, broken from the inside out. Ghost had seen a couple of such captives in his life, but this time he.... The emotionless big man couldn't hold back a tear as he swept your figure into his arms, hugging you by the shoulders and leading you out of the cellar.

"I'm here, baby," was the only thing you heard, but you didn't understand anything.

A bright light hit your eyes, but you didn't understand anything. What was going on? Never mind. Who was it? You don't care.

You sat in the ambulance with a blanket thrown over your shoulders and didn't hear the paramedics or anyone else as you continued to bite your fingers.

"Something is cracking deep inside me," Soap said, standing in the hospital smoking room, leaning on the windowsill. A beautiful sunset was coloring the sky in shades of peach and pink, but he wasn't interested. Simon, who was standing nearby, took a cigarette out of the box and lit it from the lighter, almost immediately taking a deep puff and letting out a trickle of smoke, he said: "This is the heart. "

It's a heart. But does it have one? Does it have those feelings everyone talks about, or can at least the damn brain stop screaming?

Soap hated himself more than the others. Only if he hadn't gone to that damn department then, if he hadn't left in the night, if he hadn't walked out of the store then, none of this would have happened.

Wouldn't be the broken man he is now. There wouldn't have been a girl whose self-esteem, whose psyche would have been murdered. And there wouldn't be the abandoned, lonely beta with no marks, but with deep scars and a hatred for all alphas.

(maybe I'll write a couple of sketches about their life after the tragedy, but I do not know)

Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin’ for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?

Warning NSFW

Telling werewolf boyfriend that you aren’t ready for kids just yet but wished you could feel his knot. Obviously he takes that to mean you want him to knot your virgin little asshole… I mean what else could you be implying.

Spending hours locked on his cock daily, your cunt feeling empty and leaking while your ass is stuffed with his cock. Sometimes he likes to make you fuck your fingers into your pussy while he knots your ass. He likes feeling them press against his knot from the inside.

Werewolf boyfriend also likes to have you sit on his lap as he gives your pussy little spanks while waiting for his knot to deflate, just so he can feel your ass clench around him again.

He spends three days teasing you when the feeling of you ass being stretched on his knot and two little pussy spanks made you squirt. He wasn’t even thrusting, just playing with you while waiting for his knot to go down. Both of you were shocked as your juices gushed from your cunt, landing halfway across the room as a huge grin appeared on his face. He obviously tries to do that every time now 😈

CALL OF THE SEA / PART ONE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, death (minor characters), bits of gore, 141 are mean pirates, kidnapping

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

The village was tranquil as you stepped through it, bare feet threading through the soft grass, hands wrapped around the handle of a woven basket. It was peaceful, as it always was, without the souls of townsfolk to burden you. They didn’t dare bother you with the witness of elders around, keeping any torment to themselves until nightfall when the small vendor shops had closed up for the evening and the old folk returned to their homes.

You basked in the warm summer rays that shined down on you as you walked past the various shops. Really, they were far from any real shops, only showcasing simple merchant carts with limited supply for the village to gather, but it was a small village, and everything you needed was for mere survival. You weren’t a greedy woman, and you were plenty grateful.

Stepping up to one of the merchants, you offered a polite smile to the older woman sitting behind it, bowing your head in greeting.

“Hello, Mary,” you addressed, and she perked up from where she stood, occupied with counting together the sum of coins she’d earned throughout the day. She reflected her own smile to you, standing a bit taller. A wrinkled hand lifted to brush strands of her gray hair that had blown astray in the light breeze, revealing her radiance.

“Afternoon, dove,” she greeted in return. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Just need a few more herbs, is all,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away from hers to pick around her cart. Mary always had plenty on hand, and usually snuck you a few extras when you weren’t looking.

“Ah, I see. Well, you know the routine, dove. Feel free to pick as many as you need,” she encouraged. You smiled graciously, collecting a small variety of herbs and plants to place in your basket.

It was a different decision every week, seeing as you often performed trial and error with them in the comfort of your home. Despite many in your village disagreeing with your efforts, you were attempting to learn more about medicines. The village was in desperate need of a proper healer, and a female one at that. The male in current practice was much too biased and reckless, though you were sure to get a mouthful if you were to express the concern.

So, you took it upon yourself. Living in the village rather than out on the mainland, it wasn’t a simple teaching. Resources and education were much more difficult to come by, and it wasn’t deemed necessary information for women to have. It was exactly the reason why you were seen as a bit of an enigmatic outcast to all – all except Mary, of course. Perhaps she simply pitied you.

“This will be all for me, Mary,” you declared, setting the basket on top of her cart. Reaching for the small pouch that rested comfortably on your hip, you dug through it, collecting a few bronze coins and setting them in the old woman’s frail hand.

Mary accepted, placing the coins in her own pouch and throwing you a kind smile. “You sure, dove? Nothing else I can do for you?”

“I’m sure,” you confirmed with a nod. “Still in the experimentation phase, I fear.”

“You’ll get there,” she assured, clasping one of your hands between both of hers and giving it an encouraging shake before releasing. “Perhaps I’ll come visit you one of these days. An old lady like myself could use a few tweaks.”

This elicited a light laugh from you, shaking your head as you grasped the basket. “You look as healthy as a babe, Mary. But yes, please do. You know my door is always open for you.”

The two of you said your sweet farewells before you set off down the grassy trail once again. You passed the other merchants, who didn’t welcome you with the same kindness Mary had, but didn’t scare you away with shrewdness either. It was a typical routine, at this point, for others to look down on you. A woman, unwilling to marry and bear children and instead, studying medicine. A true scandal, some might say.

The walk back to your home was done so without issue, but when your humble abode came into sight, tucked away on the farther side of the village for more private practice, the faces of recognizable men came into view. This was just as frequent as the judgeful side eyes you received, but much more inconvenient.

“Afternoon, dove,” one of the men greeted with a slimy smile, the nickname the village had given you slipping off of his tongue like rotted poison. Dove, a name of something so beautiful, given out of mere pettiness. You were free like a bird, yet you should’ve been confined to your cage. Something pretty to look at, but proving no use. “Never quite got back to me about my courtship.”

Right. You had ignored it on purpose. Though deemed as strange and grotesque by the townspeople, this particular man hadn’t quite gotten the hint. Lucius was his name, fitting, seeing as he was as close to the devil as they came. Conceited and boastful with no decency of leaving you be.

He was awfully determined in wanting to fix you, to make you the housewife everybody expected you to be, just like the other village women. It was common practice, seeing as women didn’t do much other than simply that. While some were quite content with that lifestyle, you sought out more. You didn’t want to be chained down to a simple man who had nothing but arrogance to offer, nor a man you weren’t in love with.

“Yes, that’s quite right,” you confirmed dryly, stepping up to your home. He blocked the doorway, barricading you from entering.

“It’s quite rude for a lady to reject,” he interjected, a devilish smile plastered on his face. You blinked up at him with a look of indifference. “I am only asking for an answer.”

“I believe I’ve told you no plenty of times,” you sighed, adjusting the basket on your hip. “I am simply not interested.”

He sucked his teeth together, glowering down at you from where he stood. It was clear he wasn’t pleased with the answer, but unfortunately for him, it was all he was going to get. You were solid with your decision, and god forbid you did change your mind on being a wife and mother, it would not be with him.

“Can’t change your mind at all, dove?” he asked in fake sweetness, reaching for your hand that wasn’t holding the basket. He took it in his grip, much too tight for your liking. “Perhaps I can help change it if you give me one night.”

You scowled at his underlying tone, pulling your hand from his grasp and resting it on the knob of your door. You pushed it open, stepping inside before turning to him. “Please do not humor me with such indications. I am not interested, nor will I change my mind.”

Abruptly closing the door on him, you settled inside of your home, breathing a low sigh of relief. You could hear his faint chuckles with the other men present, their footsteps soft against the grass as they took their leave. He never took things too far, such as forcing his way into your home or worse, forcing himself on you, but you feared that day may come the longer you rejected his advances.

You set your basket on your desk, slouching down in the old chair you’d spend days upon days occupied in. Your journal sat open with ink scattered on the pages in your scribbled handwriting, brief sketches drawn about of the varying herbs you worked tirelessly on. Above you, jars lined the shelves with fading labels, filled with makeshift medicines of all kinds.

With the village and its people now out of sight and out of mind, you resumed your studies with the fresh herbs, focusing on what your heart truly desired.

You don’t remember falling asleep. It had been hours of you with a pen in your hand, jotting down useful notes for your studies, and it was no surprise you had succumbed to exhaustion at the comfort of your desk. Your cot in the corner of the room was more a stranger than anything, but with the sight of moonlight still pouring in through your small windows, you debated on moving over to it so you could resume.

Standing from your desk, you rubbed the sleepiness crusting over your eyes, a yawn threatening to tug through your throat. Just as you began your short trek to your bed, a slight tinge of orange caught your eye, peeking in through your window. It was faint, barely knowledgeable.

Curiosity got the best of you, and through your hazy state, you tugged open the front door of your small cottage, daring to see what was outside. The orange grew brighter in view now that the door opening had allowed more light to pool in, and when you rubbed at your eyes once more, you recognized it as fire.

Fire, burning fiercely in the night, eating away at your village. The sounds of terrified screams and chaotic madness became abundantly clear when you stepped outside. It made your blood run cold. All hairs on your body stood straight in warning, beckoning you to return inside, to hide.

As much as you wanted to listen, the first thing to vacate your mind was Mary. In the brush of flames, you needed to know if she was alright, if she had gotten to safety before the angry fire had broken into her own home. Where most of the townsfolk treated you as a mere joke, Mary was the one who had given you kindness when needed.

Your feet moved in a rush to sprint towards the village, the grass damp from the midnight dew and sticking to your soles. The closer you came towards the heart of the village, the louder things grew. It was blood-curling, hearing booming voices bark various orders while others shouted in petrified fear. Mary’s house was on the other side of the village, and in an act of triumph, you aimed for it.

The heat of the flames became more apparent as you closed in on the town center. Townsfolk that you had grown with since a baby were in a frenzy, some bloodied, some weeping. They looked like they had gone through the pits of hell and crawled their way out, only to be inches away from being dragged back in again.

There was no explanation for why the men of your village were wearing the crimson color of fresh blood, or why some were laying in broken heaps on the ground. They were in agony, shrieking in deafening decibels. The healer in you wanted to stop everything you were doing to aid them, but the child in you wanted to reach Mary first.

You did what your heart wanted and ran for Mary.

Approaching her house, the flames had not yet approached. It wasn’t burned to ash, nor was it in shambles. Instead, one large man had Mary in their hold by each of her arms as she attempted to fight him off while another ransacked her home.

“Mary!” you shouted, helpless. The man’s head whipped in the direction of your voice, cruel eyes narrowing in on you. Mary joined him, fearful eyes catching yours.

The sight of the men was foreign to you, but you’d recognize heartless monsters such as them anywhere. They were mere stories shared between the village, often used to scare the children away from the sea for their own protection. The village was so small, nobody had ever worried about the stories happening to them.

Pirates. Cruel, greedy, malicious. Like dogs off a leash, bearing sharp teeth and frothing at the mouth. They raided innocent villages for their supply, leaving it in disarray once they got what they wanted. Sick bastards who deserved punishment, yet slipped away in the roaring waves of the sea before it could be handed to them.

“Let go of her,” you pleaded with the pirate, hands clasped together. You knew you couldn’t fight him off, even if you tried. Mary was just as powerless as you, and old age was starting to catch up to her. She was fragile, and with the way he was handling her, you feared she’d get harmed.

The mysterious pirate continued to stare at you with an unreadable expression. He grunted in annoyance, loosening his grip on Mary but not quite releasing. It did nothing to comfort you, and that feeling grew tenfold when the other pirate stepped out of Mary’s home, locking in on you.

“Grab tha’ one, will ye, Gaz?” the one holding Mary huffed, gesturing towards you with a nod of his head. The other, Gaz, nodded in return, sauntering up to you like death on wheels. You needed to run, to escape, but he was too quick. Before you knew it, Gaz’s arms had wrapped around your waist, hauling you over his shoulder like a doll.

Flailing in his embrace did nothing. His grip was firm, arm locked on to you impossibly tight, and the punches you threw to his back seemed almost comical to him.

“Find anythin’?” the other asked Gaz. Gaz shook his head, releasing a frustrated exhale.

As chaos ensued around you, the two men began dragging you and Mary along towards the heart of the village where you were moments ago. Gaz’s grip loosened on you, before he dropped you to the damp ground carelessly. You landed with a huff, soreness soaring through your back.

Looking around, you realized that many of the townsfolk were in the same condition. Lined up besides one another, pleading for their lives, weeping with ugly snot running from their noses. Mary was beside you, shaken but unharmed from the looks of it. She stared at you with heart wrenching fright, and you wished you could’ve told her things would be okay.

But they weren’t. The village was set ablaze, its people lined up like prisoners with a group of pirates looming over them like reapers prepared for death. The peace from this afternoon had vanished, and there would be no return. Things would be forever different, if they spared your lives.

Gaz and the other pirate stood side by side as they looked over the townsfolk. Another was beside them, face distorted by a ghastly mask that resembled a skull. It sent shivers down your spine. It was as if you truly were looking death in the eye.

A fourth pirate stepped forward, eyes that should’ve been considered kind instead staring down every last villager with heated observation. He was silent as he paced slowly, hands behind his back, the fire casting a doomful glow upon his face.

“My name is Captain Price,” he introduced. His voice was booming with authority. “If you do not wish to aid us, then we do not wish to aid you. The choice is yours.”

Sweat beaded your hairline from both the flames of fire scorching around you, and the anxiety that spiked inside of you. Your eyes locked in on the Captain, watching his every movement, noting the way he stood tall and proud, showcasing the true power he held. The villagers and you were helpless against him and his crew, and he was ensuring that it was obvious.

“We seek a medic. If you cannot provide that to us, then you are of no use to me,” he explained, pausing his pacing. He took in the sight of every grim face. Once he landed on you, you shivered, looking away in a panic. “I will ask you once. Who is your medic?”

Deafening silence filled the air apart from the flickering flames that threatened to consume us whole. Nobody dared to speak a word, nor did they look away from Price. It was as if time had stopped and everybody froze.

Price sniffed, glancing around the villagers. Though he seemed collected in his behavior, you could recognize the impatience from the way his lip twitched and his shoulders tensed.

“The Captain asked you lot a question,” Gaz sneered in defense. Price spared him a glance before returning focus. Still, nobody spoke for the next few moments.

It wasn’t until Price’s hand drifted to his waist, hand coming to rest on a handgun that the air shifted into one of unease. The sight of it made you sick to the stomach. Handguns were a specialty only the wealthy or military could acquire. They were rare and expensive, a luxury to some, but deadly. One click, and your soul was taken right from your body.

Price grasped the handgun, holding it in his hand as if it were a toy. He stepped up to the line of villagers, peering down at them like useless pigs. The sight of the gun had women quivering in fear, tears streaming down their rosy cheeks. The men were men no more, stripped away of their masculinity and replaced with little boys, unable to protect their kin and fulfill their duty as defenders.

The gun was raised, threat building with every inch. The barrel pointed right at the horror-stricken face of the very man who intruded on your home earlier – Lucius. Gone was the cocky mockery of a man, replaced with a whimpering boy who feared death just as much as another. He was shaking, shoulders slouched in attempts to appear small.

“We will try this again,” Price demanded. The cold barrel pressed to the temple of Lucius’ head and you could do nothing but sit and watch, unsure of what to feel. Sure, he kept a sour taste in your mouth simply from being. But to wish death on him for being a hindrance was distasteful. “Who is your medic?”

Lucius wouldn’t possibly rat you out. He was a selfish man who took what he wanted, but surely, he wouldn’t. He wasn’t that cruel.

The coward’s shaky hand lifted to point in your direction. It felt as if he were throwing a sharp dagger at you, the way he exposed the occupation you’d been so meticulously working hard towards.

Eyes shifted towards you, sending an ice cold burst through your veins. They were prodding, dissecting you from head to toe as if you were an experiment for them to test on. It was unsettling, sinking your heart down to the pits of your stomach.

“You’re the medic?” Price questioned. He hadn’t lowered his weapon, keeping it firm against Lucius’ skull, but his attention had shifted to you. His eyes weren’t warm and kind like they were shaped out to be, but rather cold, glossed over with hardened hostility.

“I–” You swallowed. “I am merely a medic in practice. I am not a professional, I do not know proper teachings–”

“Ghost,” he interrupted, whipping his head to look at the masked man. Ghost was a brute of a man, a shadow that would’ve been consumed by the night if not for the illuminating glow coming from the village in flames. “Take her so she can gather her things. She’s coming with us.”

Dread struck you right to the core. You wanted to beg for them to leave you be, to explain that you weren’t what they wanted. You didn’t want to be stripped from your home and tossed onto a ship with no clue of where your next destination was. These men were dangerous, seeping pure rancor and poisoning the very ground you laid on. Leaving with them was a death sentence.

Ghost said nothing, and even if he did, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it from the subtle weeping from villagers beside you. His strides were long as he approached you, and without warning, his rough hand grasped your elbow, hauling you to your feet. The force startled you, throwing you off balance but his grip was tight enough to keep you grounded.

As you were dragged away towards the direction of your home, you could hear an uproar of cries. Terror struck the village once more and you could do nothing but accept fate for what it was. You wanted to turn your head to see what was becoming of your people, but you were scared. Scared of what you may see, scared of what Ghost will do if you look.

You kept your gaze forward, legs moving quickly to match the heavy pace of Ghost, guiding the lion into your den.

Arriving at your home, you were hit with the realization that it would be the last time entering it. Your hard work would vanish, the space you made into your security blanket would be destroyed, burned to ash once the flames settled. It tore your heart to bits.

“Hurry up,” Ghost gruffed, his voice gravelly and hoarse. Just like Price, it was assertive, leaving no room for discussion.

You made haste to pack your essentials into a flimsy satchel. It wouldn’t be able to fit much, and you could only pray they would at least provide you with bare necessities on your voyage to hell. In your satchel went your journal, the cluttered jars of experimental medicines, your favorite quill, and a daring change of clothes. If Ghost thought you to remain alive long enough to have the opportunity to redress, he didn’t express it.

“That all?” he huffed, and when you nodded, he seized your arm again. “Let’s go.”

The sight of your home became a distant memory the farther you went from it. Already your body was pleading to go back, to curl up in bed and pretend that all of this was a sick dream. You regretted not making your cot of more use, sleeping in that damned wooden chair instead.

By the time you arrived back at the town center, it was like witnessing purgatory itself. Bloodshed with the bodies of your people laid across the ground like animals tossed aside. Useless and unworthy, that was how these pirates treated them. Though your people had never been kind to you, this was a fate you would never have wished upon them.

Their faces were unrecognizable as you took them in. Some burned, some beaten so bloody their faces had swelled into ugly monsters, some slain. The sight of the deceased made you want to vomit, bile piling in your throat and threatening to expel out.

Your eyes frantically searched for Mary, aching to know if they had given her mercy. She was a frail woman, withering with her age. She was innocent.

You couldn’t find her familiar face, and you weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or dreadful.

The three other pirates were standing around one another. They were unphased by the actions they had bestowed upon the village, as if it was another simple day. It unnerved you, rattling your bones with burrowing fear. When they noticed the return of you and their crewmate, they wasted no time in guiding you off to the small port in which their ship had been docked.

It was large, wood tainted with brown so dark it could’ve been black. It blended in with the abyss of the sea, which you realized was entirely the point. Unnoticed and concealed.

Ghost didn’t let go of you as he helped you on to the ship, nor did he release once your bare feet connected with the wood. It was just as restricting as before, causing a light pulse to form in your bicep where he held you.

“Take her to the chambers until we figure out the next step,” Price ordered Ghost, nodding his head in the direction of raggedy doors. You could only imagine what lies behind them, waiting for you.

Ghost grunted in response, tugging you with him and having you stumble on your own two feet. The wood was rough and sharp on your soles, slicing tiny splinters into your skin. Shoes weren’t needed in your village unless it was winter, and even then, the grass was always enough to consume them in warmth. Now, you were regretting not owning a pair.

“In you go,” Ghost uttered once he had the door pulled open, shoving you down a small flight of stairs towards the lower section of the ship. It was dingy and unlit, the only light seeping in being the moonlight from a tiny window.

Once inside, you recognized your new home as a cell. Barred and caged in, being tossed inside carelessly. There was nothing but a cot and a bucket to relieve yourself. It was completely empty and void of comfort.

Ghost shut the cell door, locking it with an annoyed grunt. You hadn’t even noticed him pull out the set of keys to open it for you, nor had you noticed when he locked you in. You watched as he thrusted the keys in his back pocket, the only evidence of its presence being the small glint of metal from the moon’s light.

“Wait!” you cried out when he turned to leave. You scrambled on the cell floor, hands wrapping around the cold bars. He paused his walk, throwing you a look of disinterest. “You can’t just leave me in here!”

Ghost snorted in what you dared to say amusement. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, princess. You’ll be of use soon enough.”

Ignoring your pleas, he stepped up the stairs and returned to the main deck, shutting the door and leaving you utterly alone. Silence filled the air apart from the calming waves of the sea, though it did nothing to soothe you. You were helpless, deprived of any form of escape.

You spent what felt like hours on the floor of your cell, weeping into your own hands, silently praying to a God to release you. When nobody came to your rescue, you knew it was far too late for a miracle. This would be your new life, your new home, for as long as they kept you alive.

Part of you wished they would’ve just killed you instead.

Nom

- 🦈

(Been craving Poly Shadow company x Graves x Male reader (maybe his right handman). Id like to imagine theyre a giant poly group.

Like for example, that guys your boyfriends girlfirends partners boyfriend, so why dont you both make out and snuggle.

If you're up to it, that is.)

I'm so sorry for giving your request late, Sharko! I hope this is ok, please if you'd like more just send another ask and I'll try my best to do it ><

Graves, the man who has the whole shadow company wrapped around his finger, it's no secret that the group has some type of bond. Everyone can see that they're closer than your average military unit.

The whole team is riddled with fraternizing in the workplace, including you and especially Graves, since he's apparently everyone's favorite.

You'd think people outside of your crew would catch on but the frequent touches from soldier to soldier were easily passed off as "friendly" or even "brotherly" those were specifically the answers for outsiders. But when a new recruit joins and they've been in the company for a good few months most things get revealed.

They'd be walking to the rec room or common area and you'd be there sitting on the couch, one soldier on your lap and the other snuggling to your side. When they ask what's going on you simply answer "this one here is my boyfriend and this is his girlfriend" which would shock the new recruit for sure, but they'll have to get used to it.

And it isn't a common thing to enter Graves's office and see a soldier on his lap, either just sitting there comfortably or kissing each other. It doesn't really matter since said soldier is allowed to listen on whatever you had to discuss with him.

The soldiers LOVE sitting on Graves's lap in his office, makes them feel special and all that, they probably even have scheduled time for who and when to sit on his lap.

One thing about Graves is that his favorite seat out of all Shadow Company is your lap, loves how strong your thighs feel and how secure he feels when you circle your arms around him.

Whenever you two get caught being lovey dovey with each other by another soldier, said soldier would want in immediately, adding another pair of lips to pay attention to while making out. And suddenly another pair of lips show up, but none of you mind, that's how you all have always worked and it always worked perfectly.

Ok but what if some alien orgasmism took refuge inside you, perhaps a little alien tentcale or slug, maybe slime, what ever it may be, it's inside you mow.

It's changing you, day by day

Your chest grows and grows, your ass and hips grow and grow. You feel your hair starting to grow faster then normal, the new hair a unnatural color, far out of this world. But it's stuff you can explain

What you can't explain is the unbearable heat inside of you, growing and growing by the day. Having to grab toys to ease it, but it gets harder and harder, each passing day, each day seeing your new self in the mirror, it's driving you crazy. So lost in the heat you don't notice at first, your belly swell, swell slowly. The egg growing, 2 weeks since this all happened, and there you lay on your bed, bracing for impact as the organism floods your body with apphrodiacs, making the egg laying all the better.

But you need more, this was one egg, one unfertilized egg, you need more, more more! You call a friend up, have them "help" you as you ride them away, draining every drop of cum from them, letting them relax from a job well done by sucking your tits, leaking a weird dyed milk, but all it does it melt their sweet mind to keep going and going~

It's been a 4 months since you got changed, your hair is long and neon, your teeth fangs, a long neon tounge stretches out from your mouth, as you pant away. Your dark alien eyes look down to see your new self, a massive swollen belly, huge tits with wonderful servents by your side, drinking away all the excess milk, as you rub your belly, moaning away as another egg comes out. Perhaps you'll be at your record of 12 this time, but it doesn't matter, you'll have fun either way. Besides, hearing all the others who got infected by the alien orgasmism moan away as theyay away only drives you even more into lust, can't have them beating your record now can you~ you're the head layer after all

The Second Duchess

Y'all, Noona's brain worms got me again. AO3 | This will be two parts. | This will end bitter. A/B/O dynamics, vaguely victorian, there will be an actual ghost in part two, odd power dynamics.

When John found you, a foreign lady, visiting a neighboring earl, he thought he had found redemption.

His first wife had been designationless, like you. He and his pack, Johnny, Simon, and Kyle, had ill-treated the first duchess. Her final words, left in an open letter, lingered over them all, even now.

You were supposed to be better. Every tale of you spoke of your bravery, your dedication, your loyalty. I found them all to be lies. When my corpse haunts your memories, may you think on it with more fondness than you ever did me.

The people who claimed the right of parentage over you had sent you to a foreign court in the hopes that someone would take pity on you. Foolish attempt really. No one at home wanted you; no one here would either.

All your life you had been discarded. Set aside for your lack of designation, you learned to cope. The scarred skin at your neck where your gland had failed to grow in the womb became your favorite place to decorate. If not with necklaces, then with art. You had learned how to paint on your body and create wreaths that wound round your neck; you set new standards because you could not do much else. If people were going to stare, why not give them something to look at?

Running wild became your favorite way to use your lack of designation. You could ride a horse side saddle or sitting forward like a man. You could ride better than most men in either seat. The stable hands at home got used to a horse disappearing for a few hours. You always stabled the horses you used, fed them, and brushed them. They stopped complaining after they saw how well you cared for the animals.

You hired art teachers and painted nude bodies. Music teachers taught you how to listen to the lewd songs sung in the taverns and play them at dinner parties. Languages were mastered; the curses were the things you memorized first. The cooks blustered when you demanded to be taught, but when you threatened to hire someone to teach you they quickly gave in.

The maids taught you on the sly the cant and candor of the working class. When they told you of the needs in the community you worked directly with the women who headed each group in need. Connections were gathered like coins in a purse and guarded like a hen over her chicks.

Without quite knowing how you became a woman of influence. A whisper or a word in the right ear and you could turn the tide on harmful policies. If you declared a business untenable for their use of child labor or the way they treated their workers the working class would not patronize them again.

That same level of leverage never breached the bubble of the aristocracy; hence, how you found yourself shipped away to start again.

The weeks warning your mother had given you had been enough for any in your contact to fire off letters to kin and foe alike of your coming. Even letters to foes told of your abilities to conquer changes.

Dock workers had a penchant for overindulging in your country. Men overindulging left women and children bereft of comfort and stability. You had been working at the underpinnings of fact before you had been shipped off.

No one noticed where you wandered, even here in this new country. No one cared. Just this morning you had sat down with the head of the laundress of the city to see what pieces you could shift. Their letter had arrived first, and tending to their needs would become your first priority. They needed childcare.

Children often needed tending and older children needed to be taught reading, writing, and arithmetic. An aging governess or two could be convinced to play school teachers and a maid without a reference could become a tender. Most of the legwork would arise from connecting with the women who would care for and teach the children. The juxtaposing issue would be where to house them and the children during the day. The price per child needed to be reasonable to the laundress and enticing to the governesses and the maid.

Censure, while a familiar disrespect, never became easier to bear. It bit at your flesh like the slap of hands. You had been relegated to the piano in the corner of the room while the other women partook in after-dinner sherry.

You hated sherry. You hated all alcohol really but sherry most of all. It tastes of lies and disappointment in its syrupy sweetness. Shuttering those memories, you focused on playing through a key change and into a jaunty tune; lewd would be a more accurate word, for the song you had learned down at the docks.

All these thoughts swirled through your head as your fingers played without you. Being so deep in thought you failed to notice the men had rejoined the party.

The knuckles rapping the top of the piano before your eyes brought you back to your body. Your motions paused the last notes you played lingering in the air. It is doubtful anyone was listening to you anyway.

A broad man leaned against the piano. His hair was cut short and sprinkled with gray. A neatly maintained beard, sun-kissed wrinkles around his eyes, as well as the fine cut of his coat completed the look of a lord. Being unfamiliar with this county’s aristocracy you offered a demure smile.

“Can I help you, my lord?”

“Where did a thing like you learn a tune like that?” His voice is rich and cadence firm.

“It is astounding the things musicians will teach you for the right incentive.” Settling your hands back to the keys you began to play a medley of your favorite drinking songs.

“Why do you not hide it?” His voice is as a surprise as it is unexpected.

Decorum meant different things here. Like it being acceptable to ask about one’s secondary gender.

“Why would I hide something I am not ashamed of, my lord? I am not causing harm to others by existing,” you lift a brow as you glance at him quickly.

He stared at the paint ringing your neck. The style of dresses here, that your great aunt had draped you in despite your protests, involved low necklines and off-the-shoulder sleeves. The corset cinched around you held up the dress. You had painted flowers and vines. Now, if anyone stared overlong you could assume they were observing your skill with a brush and not the scar where your scent gland should be.

Transitioning into a light, airy tune that has been well accepted by “higher” society you stole glances at the lord. You had yet to be introduced, but his dismissal of decorum intrigued you. Not many men approached you for a chat, even less without being introduced as an oddity first.

“Would you take a turn around the room with me?”

And there went your interest. Like with anyone who did not conform to society’s standards, you were propositioned every so often. Pursing your lips, you don’t look at him again.

“If you can gain an introduction before I depart for the night, I will consider it.” Focusing back on your fingers you played around a key change into a moving piece.

This bit of music sounded a bit like weeping when you played it.

He would not find your aunt anywhere near this room. She had consumed a fair amount of dairy in the soup course and would be leaving rancid deposits for the maids to clean in the morning. Once she felt well enough to travel she would send someone to collect you to the carriage. No one else here could claim acquaintance to the point of introductions.

As you predicted the lord could be seen drifting from person to person questioning and pointing toward you where you played still. All shook their heads and peered around for your aunt. Nearing forty minutes later a maid approached you, hands clasped neatly in front of her white frock.

“Ma’am, your aunt awaits you in the carriage,” her voice is mouse quiet even as her eyes dart to and for.

“Thank you for telling me. Can you inform the butler I will need my things?”

The notes lingered before dying, suffocated under the volume of conversation. The lord noticed though. As you slipped around seats and finally into the front hall, he followed. The aged butler held out your shawl, gloves, and hat.

One glove on and buttoned at the wrist you started on the other one when he appeared. The lord gave a near-silent dismissal to the butler. When you turned you found your hat and shawl held hostage.

“My things, my lord,” your hand extended for your things.

“While I was not able to obtain a formal introduction, I wanted to introduce myself. Duke John Price, at your service.”

Plucking your bonnet from his hand, you hum. Duke Price glared at you as tied it in place.

“How wonderful I avoided the misfortune of being introduced to a duke then being as lowly as I am, hmm?” You glanced at his face.

His sun-kissed wrinkles are now plucked with frustration.

“Will you be returning my shawl or shall I brave the night with bare shoulders, Duke Price?”

You let the title remind him of his place in the scheme of life.

The blue of his eyes reminded you of the center of a flame, scorching in its heat. You saw the decision in the tilt of his head. Standing stiller than the statues you saw dotting this land, you did not fight when he settled the shawl around your shoulders.

“Travel safe. I look forward to our upcoming introduction,” Duke Price held to the end of the shawl as you stepped back.

“Must not have much to look forward to in this country,” you let derision drip from your tone.

One more step back and you are free. A hand behind your back finds the doorknob and you are out. Now the footmen are looking to the door as you descend the stairs.

“What kept you?” Your great aunt’s voice bites from the dark of the carriage.

“It took some time for the butler to gather my things,” you lie. Climbing in and sitting forward on the bench to peer out the door window, Duke Price watches you from the door.

Sliding back the darkness hides you from view.

John fired off a letter before the sun had risen. I have found her. I will return when wed.

It took weeks before he secured your acquaintance. He tried though, gods, the way he tried. You would have laughed if he didn’t disrupt so many damn meetings.

A local Chaplin had agreed to offer room and board to the two governesses and the two maids who would be watching and teaching the children. A different church, whose Bishop agreed, would serve as the care space and classroom. The two churches would have no fees, but negotiating the prices that would remain fair for the laundresses and the women caring for the children became the sticking point.

The women all raised their voices. It was as if they could shout a little louder than their neighbor they might be clearly heard. In times like these, you were grateful for your nose blindness. Someone had once explained that the overlapping scents of anger reminded them of a barn fire, acrid and dense.

You finished finalizing the numbers on your page before standing. Snatching up your mini abacus, because math in your head forever alluded you, you placed it in a pocket of your skirt. Both hands lifted your skirt. Once your feet could move freely, you stepped onto the chair and then onto the long table where the discussion had devolved.

Both boots planted firmly you released your skirt and shoved fingers in your mouth to whistle. The piercing sound cut through all of the noise. All of the women sat down and glowered at each other, and you.

Movement at the door of the room tipped your annoyance into rage. Duke Price stood in the doorway. This was the fourth meeting he had appeared in.

“The Duke of Price has two seconds to be gone from this room or he will be funding this project for a year.”

Your pointed glare and sharp words caused all the women at the table to turn and do the same. These were proud women. They would not accept charity, and the offer of it would be seen as offensive. The duke narrowed his eyes and stepped back into the shadows.

“Close the door, my lord. If you are incapable of such a feat one of these lovely women would be happy to assist.”

The iron lock clicking into place turned all eyes back to you. Pinching your fingers to the bridge of your nose you shut your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Here is the pricing that accommodates everyone. The women handling the children will not need to cover room and board, which will reduce their incoming monies. In turn, that reduces the burden per child for the laundresses. Now, you must decide among yourselves,” you open your eyes and scan the laundresses now, “If you wish to pay a per child fee or a flat fee. Tally your votes and inform me of your decision. This scheme will begin on the first.”

The women who handled the dirty laundry for the city nodded and rose. They spoke among themselves as they exited the room.

The older governess, Brenton, if you recall correctly spoke up now. Her white hair gleamed under her dowdy cap.

“Who will be supplying the learning materials? The pay for watching the children will not cover that.”

You climbed down as you thought over how to obtain the needed materials.

“There is an irksome lord that I will make pay for the displeasure of my constant annoyance.”

All four women shared a look. They had worked under several lords and ladies and knew this would be a formidable task.

“Well,” Miss Brenton clapped her hands twice, “We will leave you to your trial ma’am. If we can be of any assistance before our work begins, please reach out.”

“Thank you. I know this is going to be an odd period of transition for all of us.” Settling at the head of the table as the other stood, you gestured to the door. “Miss Brenton, if you don’t mind, could you play chaperone for a moment?”

“Must say, I am interested to see how this plays out.” Tucking her skirt back down Miss Brenton sat back down.

Pulling out a clean sheet you began to note down the needed items, chalk and chalkboards, readers, nappies, blankets, cribs, the list went on. The click of heavy-soled shoes stopped at your side. Paying it no mind, you continued. A second sheet joined the first, transferring a list of vendors that would help funnel money to the bottom where it was most needed. Some were spouses of the laundress, others were brothers, fathers, or uncles. All were low class and would provide solid work.

A total of three sheets filled you ensured each was dry before stacking them. Folding them into neat thirds, you turned and handed them to Lord Price.

“You are a difficult woman to make an acquaintance of,” he took the papers held in proffer. “What is this?”

“The bill.” Standing, you let the chair legs scrape against the floor. “Miss Brenton, can I interest you in having company on your walk home?”

The shrewd woman looked near apoplectic at your handling of a duke.

“This is a lengthy bill.”

If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn there was a hint of a smile in his voice.

Lord Price’s eyes were upon you when you finally let your head finish turning. No smile graced his lips. Shame. For all he had made your last few weeks as painful as a throne in the thumb, he was nice to look at.

He wore a blue today. His eyes shone with the gold stitching on his jacket and vest.

“It has been extraordinary lengths you have gone to bother me; this seemed a fair request.”

Neither gaze shifts when Miss Brenton choked on air.

“Consider it done,” Duke Price tucked the list into his inner coat pocket. “May I join you ladies on your journey?”

“Of cour—”

You cut Miss Brenton off with a hand and a sharp look. Turning that sharp look on the lord, you speak your piece.

“No. I do not know what your intentions are with me, and frankly, I am tired of finding you amidst my business. The only men who pursue me do so for my,” you gesture to your scarred neck, “eccentricities.”

A string attached to your stomach could not have pulled tighter than if it were looped to a kite. This conversation made you wish you could skitter into a hole, a church mouse hiding from god. This would be the sixth time you had told a man no.

The duke huffed a laugh.

“I have enough eccentricities roaming my home. What I seek is a chance to see if we would get on well.”

His blue eyes left heated trails as they worked across your face. Goose flesh rose on your arms. Chest and further down where you dare not think of the flesh continued to rise. Every bit of you reacted.

“Why?” The question is breathy, haunted with questions.

Duke John Price held the sword of Damocles at your neck. The blade yearned for a taste.

You spent your days in the shadows. Confronting men who could take what they wanted was the only time you thought you knew what it was like to be whole. Acid bullied the back of your nose.

“I am in need of a wife. Someone who has the skills to manage others.”

He is not done. You don’t care.

“Choose any of your fashionably young countrywomen then.” Ripping your eyes from him, you stack your papers and close your ink well for travel. “There is a full troop of them yet unwed who would kill for the chance to lay in a duke’s bed. They have all been trained to manage households.”

The string in your body is cut. A tangle now lives in your chest.

“Miss Brenton, was it?”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“Can you give us the room for a moment?” The kind command would take more fortitude than the aged governess possessed.

A beseeching look to the matronly woman did not save you. Her wrinkles quivered as she slowly stood.

“I can give you three minutes m’lord.”

He inclined his head as if accepting a toast from a royal.

As the door swung shut you formed a plan. Stepping to the opposite side of the table, for distance and a barrier, failed. The toe of your boot caught the leg of the table. Papers fluttered from your hands as your knees cracked against the stone floor. Duke Price was there in an instant. He lifted each paper, laying it neatly in a stack.

Tears pricked at your eyes. You hadn’t moved from your fallen position. Head hanging to your chest you held back from weeping by the breadth of a string.

“Why will you not leave me be?” The words are harsh, strangled by the tightness in your throat.

“When hunting foxes, one strategy to attempt is sending them to ground. Where do they hide when they can no longer run?” His demeanor was cool, his voice soothing. “You run in circles, managing to better every bird, twig, and rock you brush against in your escape.”

Sniffing, you set about finding a handkerchief to wipe your face; you refused to face the laundress’ if they knew you used your skirts as rags.

A blue handkerchief in a gloved hand drifted below your nose. Lifting it, careful to not touch even his glove, you dab your nose.

Somehow you had managed to drip ink into the crease where your nail becomes flesh. Gloves hurt your hands after a time. You had managed to work around wearing them. No one noticed. No one ever noticed. And if they did they didn’t care to police a grown woman who had no prospects.

“I have a pack, they are wonderful and I would burn the world for them. I need a wife who can see. I am looking for someone who notices the needs overlooked, connects with those unheard, and sends war captains on impossible journeys. If you had allowed an acquaintance between us weeks ago, I could have courted you slowly.”

Duke Price holds out your papers. They crinkle in your delicate grip as you press them to your breast.

“I do not believe you.”

His cloth pressed to your nose cannot prevent all the vile feelings filling up your bones from injecting themselves into the words.

No one wanted you. Even the one who had lied in word and deed to make you believe he did.

Brokenness allowed you to see because you could not smell; that did not make you valuable.

“And what would make you believe me?” He curls nearly in half to peer up at you.

A duke is on his knees, craning his need to get a look at you. What the hell had this world turned into?

Sniffing again, you straighten. Plans. You can make plans.

“A contract. Legally binding even in marriage. Make it two. One to court me and become engaged and the second retaining my rights to leave this country unhindered, if I so desire, if marriage were to come to pass.” You study him now. The wheels are turning in his mind.

“And what of the consequences of reneging on either contract?” A single brow is lifted in your direction.

“I imagine your solicitor has worked with you a long time, my lord. If he does not think of something suitable, I would be happy to revise and return it for review,” you lift a brow in response.

Games were easier. The rules never changed. Once understood, you could slide below notice and return to living life and helping where you could.

The man before you lifted both cheeks into a full smile. Your heart dropped into your heels still below your butt. He had a beautiful smile.

“They will be at your door for review before the week is out.”

“You have not yet gained an acquaintance, my lord, it might be rejected at the door,” you gave him a saucy wink and a watery laugh.

“I think a contract will be introduction enough.”

He held out a hand. You shook it, grip firm. Twice it bobbed before he turned your hand over and laid a kiss on your knuckles.

Catching sight of your lifted brow from his position he threw you off balance, again.

You had been to sea. Once only, were you out during a storm.

Then you had clung to the railing until a man in a slicker had slid a rope around your waist and helped haul you below deck. That wild energy that had commanded you to land came now. This time though? You longed to dive below the waves. If only to see if the storm could touch the seabed below.

Solicitor Allchin sat stiffly in the sitting room of your great aunt’s home. He wore black as if born to it, hair flounced the appropriate amount to show he would be fastidious and dogged in a task.

Your nails, trimmed short, bite into the fabric coating the arms of the wing-back chair. The crazy fool had actually done it. Two contracts lay strewn on the tea table before you. Unable to continue to read, they had been thrown down.

“Allchin?”

The man startled at being addressed. He had been taking surreptitiously deep breaths. If anyone believed you to be afflicted with no scent gland upon meeting you would call them a liar.

“Yes ma’am?”

“What is your opinion of Duke Price?”

You refused to call him John. It felt like ceding ground in a war you didn’t intend to entrench in.

“He is a fair man, mostly. Cares well for those that he considers his, discards those he doesn’t.” Allchin spoke firmly. Confident in his honesty.

“Thank you. That will be all. I will return these with any adjustments within three business days.” Standing would be beyond your power. If you rose the only thing you would manage is the three steps to vomit in an oriental vase.

“Ma’am,” Allchin rose, tugging his coat neatly into place. “If I may? I have a question.”

“You may not.”

Rage fluttered in your chest with hummingbird wings; it stung your eyes, water filling them.

Allchin nodded once and saw himself out. Lifting the paperwork, you read what you could. He had tilted everything in your favor. If you agreed to an engagement you could keep it quiet until the bans were read. Either party could break the engagement and you would receive a settlement for cover “pain and suffering.” You would retain full autonomy and legal status as a person in the event of a marriage. Property bought or sold in your name would remain yours.

Working itself out seemed to be working in Lord Price’s favor.

Someone, and if you ever found them you might actually hurl them down the stairs, had told your great aunt about the visit and the paperwork.

“What is this I hear about an offer?”

The testy old woman had called you to her office like a child. She opened and shut a fan in one hand. Open. Shut. Open. Shut.

Blinking slowly, you release a breath.

“I did not think you could hear at all anymore, Aunt.”

Slam. The fan cracked against the edge of her desk.

“Do not test me, child! Have you had an offer?” Her frail voice betrays none of her age as she shouts.

Disdain drips from your canines like blood from a throat you clenched between your teeth.

“I lost my childhood to bigotry and hate. I will not lose my adulthood to it as well. Any business between myself and any man who might make an offer is none of your damn business. Only those who care about my welfare are welcome to that knowledge.” The temperature in the room changed, flashing cool before heating up with a rage you knew waited to boil over.

Turning on a heel, you stride from the room.

Any calls from your aunt fall on deaf ears. You lock yourself in your room and squirrel away the paperwork. Not well enough.

One of the maids must have found them. Word reached you as you were fitted for a wedding gown that your aunt had offered a hefty reward for the person who could pry the information from you. You thank the young woman pinning the skirt and ask after her children. She smiles as she tells you of her daughters and their clumsy attempts at stitches.

Masterlist | Part 2

The Benefits of Being a Marine Biologist (Part 3)

Part 1 - Part 2 Merman x transmasc reader Contains: first kiss with your monster boy crush and then you make out. Extreme communication and consent because that's very sexy Warnings: mentions of arousal Length: 1.7k words

You've lost count of how many days you have visited Abalone. The weeks had turned into a blur of begrudgingly working at the laboratory and wringing out any spare time you could to go to the beach to see him.

Today you were coming to visit with a gift. It was silly, really, but you felt compelled to give him something tangible from the human world. He tries his best not to show it, but you suspect he gets lonely when you don't come to visit.

As you walk down the now well-traveled sand path through the grass, you realize you're feeling nervous. But why? You're just going to give him a gift. That's a completely normal thing to do. And Abalone won't be mean to you if he doesn't like it - his grasp of human socialization is loose at best, so he would just tell you what he thinks of it. You take a deep breath as you exit out of the brush onto the beach.

There he was, as always, in the water framed by the sinking orange sun. You've told him he should be more careful in case someone else saw him, but he always dismisses your worries and says he knows how to hide. For his sake you hope that's true.

You run down to the shore, and Abalone comes to the edge of the water to meet you. As you pause to drop your bag in the sand and kick off your shoes, he pulls himself out onto the sand in the very edge of the waves, propping up his head with his hands to watch you. You walk over to sit next to him in the sand.

"You should be careful, if you get beached I don't think I can haul you back into the water."

Without missing a beat he asks, "What is beached?"

"It's when an animal gets too close to the shoreline and gets stuck in the sand. Like you right now," you tease.

"Oh. I have seen that before. Very bad."

You look around at the tiny beach in disbelief. "What on earth managed to beach itself here?"

"Not here," he answered. "Somewhere else. A long time ago."

"Oh? Where else did you live?"

He didn't reply to you, his mood clearly dampened by thinking about the past.

"Nevermind about that. I brought you something! A human trinket for you to keep."

Abalone perked up and looked at you eagerly. "Ooo! Show me!"

Taking a small pouch from your pocket, you explained to him, "Now, this is supposed to be waterproof, so it won't rust. I went into town thinking of something to get for you, and I thought this was pretty perfect."

You take the silver necklace out of its silky bag. Holding it out for him to see, you say, "It's an abalone shell pendant! Because that's your name." You laugh nervously. "It's okay if you don't actually like jewelry, I just thought it would be nice to give you something."

Abalone stared at the necklace silently, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Did he really hate it? Had you somehow offended him?

Something changed in his expression. You couldn't quite place it at first, but you quickly realized it was that his cheeks were darkening. He was blushing.

"I… um…" He tried to say something to you, but his voice caught in his throat.

"I'm sorry!" you exclaim, instinctively shifting away from him and clutching the necklace to your chest. "I didn't mean to upset you or anything, I just wanted to do something nice-"

"No, not that," he cut you off. He hid his face in his hands as he said, "For us something like that is asking for courtship."

Oh no. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to- I didn't mean to do anything like that! I'm sorry Abalone, I've made you uncomfortable, haven't I?"

He looked at you with one eye peeking out from between his fingers. "No, it's fine. It is just that… no one would do that for me. Not for real."

He looked so sad, and something came over you. Without thinking you leaned toward him and put a hand over his own on his face. "Why would you think that? You're perfectly lovely."

He didn't move, but he didn't resist your touch either. "There are reasons."

"You don't have to talk about it. It's okay." Your mouth moving faster than your mind, you continued, "Maybe it doesn't mean as much coming from a human, but I do like you a lot. You're funny and sweet and you would never let me get anywhere close to drowning on your watch."

He moved his hands down from his eyes to look at you. "You mean it?"

"Yes." You took his hands into yours and looked into his dark eyes. "What if I do mean it?"

He looked at you blankly as you realized what you had just said. Feeling your own face flushing, you turned and picked up the necklace from where you had dropped it in the sand.

One hand in his, the other holding out your gift, you ask again quietly, "What if I do mean it?"

"… You do?" He whispered, as if afraid to break the quiet tension.

Moving slowly with hesitation, Abalone sat upright in the sand, his tail trailing off into the water. You leaned closer to him, and he gently pulled you toward himself with your hand that he still held. Tentatively leaning in toward each other, your lips meet his. You tasted salt as he slowly pulls away from you.

You look at each other silently, frozen with nervousness. With his sleek body so close to yours, you couldn't deny it any more. Abalone wasn't only an object of your curiosity.

He breaks the silence. "Was that all right?"

You smile at his slight misuse of the word. "Yes," you reply breathlessly. "Definitely."

You lean forward and kiss him again. This time he doesn't move away. He gently puts his arms around you as your lips meet again. And again. Despite his large size, he touches you so softly. His sharp teeth graze your lips.

Without breaking your embrace, you pull yourself onto his lap. You put your arms around his neck and your hands in his hair, and he hugs you to himself a bit tighter. "So pretty," he mumbles when his mouth parts from yours. "Pretty human boy."

Abalone kisses you deeper, his hands on your waist now. You wonder how long he has been waiting for this. How long you have wanted this.

You feel his tongue on your bottom lip, and you can't help but pull away from him giggling. Seeing him frown and his big sad eyes, you quickly say, "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I promise. Do you have a forked tongue?"

"What?"

"Like is it split down the middle?"

"Maybe?" He stuck out his tongue a bit to show you. It was a darker gray like his hands and tail, and it was indeed forked.

"It is! Like a lizard," you laugh. "See, this is what I'm used to." Your demonstration of a human tongue seemed to amused him.

Abalone pressed his forehead against yours as you mindlessly played with his hair. "Is this bad? For you and me to…" he trailed off.

"I don't think so," you answer quietly. "And maybe, even if it is, I don't care."

Seemingly satisfied with that thought, he gently began kissing you again. Slowly he kissed harder, and you leaned into the pressure. Your hands gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, and his claws poked into your back.

When you were pressed into him nearly as hard as you could be, Abalone carefully flipped you over and laid you down on the sand. Your mind went blank at the sight of him above you, his damp skin glowing in the dying light.

He bent down and continued to kiss you, his mouth trailing down your neck. You felt his teeth on your skin and you gasped quietly. He was giving you gentle love bites, careful not to break the skin but the pinpricks still made you dizzy. His tail was between your legs and you felt his hips pressing into yours. You held his neck and shoulders tighter as your back arched to meet his touch. It didn't take long for you to become hard and wet.

His frantic pace of kisses and bites gradually slowed until he gave you one final kiss on your lips and laid down on top of you, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"Was that too much?" He shyly mumbled into your shoulder.

You struggle to find your voice again. "… No, not at all."

He flopped over to lie in the sand next to you, hugging his arms to himself and avoiding your gaze. But he does turn to look at you when you quietly say his name.

"That was wonderful." You reach over to take his hand. "Maybe we can do it again?"

He blushed furiously at that, but didn't look away from you. "Yes, maybe." He held up the necklace from wherever the fuck it had ended up in the sand. "Can you help with this?"

You laugh and pull him to sit up with you. You undo the clasp and instruct him how to hold his hair out of the way. Reaching around his neck, you lock your gift in place.

Smiling sweetly, Abalone touched the pendant on his chest. "Thank you."

Wishing you could stay for the rest of the night, you sighed dramatically. "The sun is almost fully down. I really should go now."

He nodded and tilted his head, silently posing the regular question.

"I can come back tomorrow night! And since tomorrow is Friday, I don't have to worry so much about going home."

He grinned at you brightly. "Tomorrow. I have things to do, then." And with that, he slipped back into the shallows to swim away. A flick of his tail splashed you with seawater, and with that he was gone.

You didn't know whether to be excited or worried by his final words. Gathering your things and beginning the trek home, you figured you'd have to wait and see.

AN: thank you all for your patience while I took like two months to finish writing this! I plan for part 4 to be the final part, and it will probably be very long and very explicit :3 Thank you for reading as always xoxo Tip Jar on Ko-Fi (requests/commissions coming soon??)