#How would they even. They got snouts

[commandernachos]

They shloud kith

[kyseya]

Yandere beast

This inspired by Beauty & the Beast.

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Yandere prince who has everything one could desire. He is royalty after all. There is nothing he cannot have and he is used to it being that way; the king and queen had spoilt him to no end.

Yandere prince who is mean and selfish. He treats everyone at the palace like dirt. He doesn’t even seem to carry much respect for his own parents. No, they’re used to give into his whims. The servants are all laughed at by him, he does not care when he sees the tears running down their faces at the cruel comments. His biggest talent may just be wickedness.

Yandere prince who does have one person he actually likes: you. You are the one exception. As the child of a servant, you too, were subjected to his bullying in the beginning. The people always had one of two reactions to him, either they stayed down and wept, or they started fuming. Both options were equally funny to the spoiled prince. However you surprised him, because you did neither. Whenever he was mean to you, you took it in silence before asking about his day. This bewildered him to no end. Why would you ask such things? It didn’t make sense. The more he bullied you though, the more intrigued he became. You were always kind, no matter the person; even to him. It was after that he decided he loved that about you.

Yandere prince who opened the door to a stranger. It was a heavy storm that night. If anyone were to be caught in it they would surely not survive. The stranger asked for shelter, and as payment the prince would receive a single rose. This made him scoff. The audacity some had. He turned them away as fast as they had come. Unfortunately for him this was no ordinary human. The stranger revealed themselves to be a magician. They told him they saw no love in his heart and therefore he should be punished for his cruelty.

That night his life changed for ever; now he was a monster. He sprouted fur all over his body, his nose grew into a long snout and a tail with spikes protruded from his lower back.

Yandere beast who has lost all his beauty. He was nothing other than hideous. Such a creature should surely be hidden out of sight. Not only did he lose his appearance that night, he also lost his status. The king and queen were horrified at his new form. This turn of event was not what they prepared for. Disgusted with him they sent him to a dreary little castle on the country side where no one would ever lay eyes on him.

Filled with despair he wallowed in shame; for his appearance and his situation. The only thing that could break the curse was if he learned to love someone and earn their love in return. Clearly, his parents did not believe the curse could be lifted, which was the reason they sent him away. They couldn’t have him at court anymore after all. Perhaps they were also glad to be rid of him once and for all.

Yandere beast who was all alone in his castle. He was left without servant or any gold. He was not used to a life without luxury. He thought he’d be alone forever and waste into nothingness, but he was surprised by you once more. You had come to the castle and chose to work there. When you’d told the king and queen of your decision they could not fathom why you would do such a thing when you were under no obligation to do it. You knew how horrible the prince was to all your colleagues, but you saw that underneath all that pride was an insecure young boy who wanted attention. It was not an excuse for his behaviour though. Still, your kindhearted nature made you want to help him.

Yandere beast who is elated with your presence. Now that he has company he is not as pessimistic. He always had a soft spot for you but now the fondness has turned into a full blown obsession. He loves you so much! When no one else was there for him and his life got turned into shamble, you stood by his side- willingly too! You weren’t frightened by his hideous form, no, you held his hand and stroked his snout without a care in the world. You were clearly the one to break the curse!

Yandere beast who does everything to make you fall for him and love him just as much as he loves you. Are you hungry? Good, because his transformation made him a great hunter! Are you in the mood for deer or rabbits? This monstrous prince can offer you a lot more than any normal prince or commoner human. No one can protect you as well as he can; his strength and sharp senses is the one upside to the curse. When the two of you marry, he’ll get back his title and whisk you away to a new castle. This one will be filled with the luxuries he bathed in before, and you’ll be forced to swim in them too whether you want to or not.

Could you ever love this beast?

[solxamber]

Imagine having mc take care of dorm leaders that turned into animals like riddle a hedgehog, leona a lion, Azul a octopus, kalim an otter, vil would definitely be a peacock, idia would be a cat, and lastly malleus a dragon. They would definitely turned into animals due to some spell and I mean imagine seeing a huge dragon outside the ramshackle dorm, it would be really shocking and funny at the same time. 😆

Zoo Tycoon: Housewarden Edition

In which they accidentally turn into animals.

a/n: i started vibrating the minute I saw this because that's such a cute concept and I have no self control so here we go

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle turning into a hedgehog was not on your to-do list today. But alas, here you were, holding a furious, tomato-colored hedgehog that refused to be handled by anyone but you.

“Aw, look at his little face!” Ace cooed, leaning in way too close.

Riddle puffed up, his tiny spines bristling in pure indignation. You could practically feel the how dare you emanating from his quivering form.

Deuce, ever the voice of concern, scratched his head. “What do we do now? Can he… even turn back?”

Ace smirked. “Maybe we just keep him like this. He’s a lot cuter when he can’t yell at us.”

Riddle launched himself at Ace’s hand, delivering a swift poke with his needle-sharp snout. Ace yelped, flailing backward dramatically. “Okay, okay! Geez, he’s still scary even like this.”

You cradled Riddle closer to your chest, where he settled down, still glaring daggers at the others. Somehow, he was perfectly content in your hands, even though he practically vibrated with rage whenever anyone else got near.

As the day went on, Riddle’s hedgehog antics only grew.

At lunch, he sat on your lap, sniffing your sandwich like a tiny food inspector. “You want a bite?” you teased, holding out a crumb.

His tiny paw batted it away with a disdainful look. Well, as disdainful as a hedgehog could manage. He turned his head toward the teapot, making his intentions very clear.

“Oh, of course. Tea for the hedgehog,” Ace snorted. “This is getting ridiculous.”

Later, in the library, Riddle climbed onto your textbook, curling up into a spiky ball to block your reading. You tried to nudge him gently. “Riddle, I need to study.”

He uncurled just enough to glare at you, his beady eyes burning with absolute authority. Message received: study time was over.

By nightfall, you were exhausted. Riddle was perched on a pillow next to you, looking surprisingly regal for a tiny woodland creature.

“Alright, Your Majesty,” you said, rubbing your temples. “How do we turn you back? Should we call Professor Crewel? Or maybe Professor Trein?”

Riddle chirped in protest, clearly not a fan of either option.

Deuce had another bright idea. “What if it’s, like, a true love’s kiss thing? Isn’t that how these fairy tale curses usually work?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s ridiculous.”

But Riddle fixed you with a surprisingly intense hedgehog stare, his little nose twitching.

“Wait, are you… agreeing?” you asked, mildly horrified.

Ace snickered. “Do it. Kiss the hedgehog. For science.”

After much internal debate (and external heckling), you sighed and leaned down to press a soft kiss to Riddle’s tiny forehead.

There was a burst of light, and suddenly, you were nose-to-nose with a very human, very flustered Riddle Rosehearts.

He scrambled backward, covering his face with his hands. “W-well, that was… unexpected.”

“Unexpected?” you echoed. “You asked for it!”

Ace howled with laughter in the background. “So it was true love’s kiss! You two are so gross!”

Riddle glared at him, but his ears were still bright red as he turned to you. “I suppose… I owe you my gratitude. And, um…” He cleared his throat, fidgeting. “Would you—if it’s not too much trouble—consider going out with me?”

You blinked. “Wait, you’re asking me out now?”

Riddle crossed his arms. “You did kiss me. It’s only proper!”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Sure, Hedgehog Prince. Let’s go on a date.”

Riddle muttered something about proper decorum, but his small smile said he wasn’t too upset about it.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona turning into an actual lion wasn’t even the weirdest thing that had happened this week, but it was definitely in the top five.

“C’mon, Prefect.” Ruggie grinned as he all but shoved you into Leona’s room, slamming the door behind you before you could protest. “I got stuff to do, and someone’s gotta deal with him. He only listens to you anyway!”

You turned to find Leona—the lion version—lounging on his bed like the world’s crankiest housecat. His massive paws stretched lazily, his eyes locking onto you with the unmistakable air of finally, someone competent.

“Uh, hi, Leona,” you ventured, waving awkwardly.

He grumbled, a low rumble of approval that shook the floorboards, and flicked his tail in a way that said, Don’t leave.

It became clear very quickly that Lion Leona was just as much of a diva as Human Leona.

First, he refused to eat the steak that Ruggie brought him, pawing at it disdainfully until you had to personally cut it into perfect bite-sized pieces. He made a satisfied grunt after his meal, flopping down at your feet like you were the royal food taster he’d personally hired.

Then, there was the grooming incident.

“Leona, you have something stuck in your mane,” you said, pointing to a suspicious tangle.

He gave you a look that said, And?

Sighing, you grabbed a brush and carefully worked out the knot. To your shock, Leona let out a rumble that sounded suspiciously similar to a purr.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He blinked slowly, the feline equivalent of a smirk.

Ruggie, ever the opportunist, couldn’t resist stopping by to witness the chaos.

“Wow, Prefect, he’s basically a giant kitten with you around,” Ruggie teased, leaning against the doorframe.

Leona growled, a low warning rumble that sent Ruggie scurrying back. “Okay, okay! Sheesh, no need to get territorial. Have fun babysitting!”

You sighed, scratching behind Leona’s ears. “You’re really not helping my case, y’know.”

Leona just huffed and leaned into your touch, clearly unbothered.

By the end of the day, you were sprawled on the bed next to Leona, who was taking up approximately 80% of the mattress.

“You’re kinda cute like this,” you admitted, running your fingers through his mane. “Not that you’re not cute normally, but… y’know. Less grumpy.”

He gave you a look that somehow conveyed I am never not grumpy.

Feeling bold (and maybe a little delirious from exhaustion), you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

There was a sudden, blinding flash of light, and before you could process what was happening, Leona was back in his human form, lounging beside you with his trademark smirk.

“Well, well,” he drawled, propping himself up on one elbow. “Didn’t know you felt that way, herbivore.”

You spluttered. “I—what—this was true love’s kiss?! That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever—”

He leaned closer, cutting off your rant with a low chuckle. “Guess that means you’re stuck with me now. So… dinner? Or are you gonna keep brushing my hair all night?”

Your brain short-circuited, but you managed a weak, “Dinner sounds good.”

Leona smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “Smart choice.”

From outside, Ruggie’s muffled voice shouted, “Hey, did it work? Can I come back now, or is he still a murder machine?”

Leona groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Sevens, someone muzzle that guy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into Leona’s side. Maybe being stuck with him wasn’t such a bad deal after all.

Azul Ashengrotto

To be fair, you weren’t exactly surprised when Jade and Floyd ambushed you outside Mostro Lounge. Their grins alone screamed mischief.

“Shrimpy~,” Floyd sing-songed, grabbing you by the arm. “C’mon, we need your help.”

“Azul’s having a little… situation,” Jade added with a cryptic smile. “And we think you’re the only one who can help.”

Before you could protest, you were unceremoniously dragged into Mostro Lounge, through a hidden door, and deposited in front of a massive aquarium. Inside was—

“Is that an octopus?” you asked, squinting.

The octopus—no, wait, Azul—floated pathetically in the corner, looking as done with life as an eight-legged creature could manage.

“Yep,” Floyd said cheerfully. “Boss turned himself into an octopus. Wouldn’t let anyone near him, though, so…”

Jade handed you a bottle filled with suspiciously glowing liquid. “Breathing potion. You’re going in.”

“Excuse me?!”

Before you could escape, Floyd picked you up like a sack of potatoes and dumped you into the tank.

You flailed briefly, realizing the potion worked—thank Sevens—but also realizing you were now face-to-face with Octopus Azul.

“Uh, hi?” you ventured, swimming awkwardly closer.

Azul didn’t respond, but one of his tentacles twitched and pointedly smacked the glass. You got the impression he was saying Why me?

“It’s not like I asked for this, y’know!” you huffed, crossing your arms. “Your goons threw me in here!”

Azul floated closer, his large, round eyes narrowing as if to say Yes, and they will pay.

It didn’t take long for Azul to warm up to you, mostly because he realized you weren’t leaving.

“Are you sulking?” you teased after his sixth dramatic float to the other side of the tank.

A tentacle flicked water in your direction, splashing you.

“Hey!” You swam closer and poked him on the head. “Don’t be such a baby.”

Azul responded by curling a tentacle around your wrist, pulling you closer.

“Okay, fine, you’re cute,” you muttered, patting his squishy head. “There, happy?”

Azul’s tentacles tightened slightly, and you were 90% sure he was smug about it.

After what felt like hours of tentacle shenanigans (including one terrifying moment where Azul tried to steal your potion bottle), you sighed.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” you said, booping his forehead.

Azul blinked at you, his gaze softer than usual. He looked so pitiful and huggable that, without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

There was a bright flash, and suddenly you were face-to-face with human Azul, who was sitting awkwardly in the shallow end of the tank, his face as red as a lobster.

“W-What did you just—”

“Oh my Sevens, you’re back!” you interrupted, relief washing over you. “Thank goodness, I thought I’d have to live in here forever!”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly flustered. “I—thank you. For… that.”

“No problem,” you said breezily, though your face felt like it was on fire.

Azul hesitated, fiddling with his glasses. “Would you, ah, perhaps… accompany me to dinner? As a token of gratitude, of course!”

“Sure,” you said, smiling. “But only if you promise to stop turning yourself into an octopus.”

He flushed even deeper, complaining something about “unavoidable circumstances,” but you couldn’t help laughing. Maybe dating an occasionally-octopus Azul wouldn’t be so bad.

From outside the tank, Floyd’s voice rang out: “Aww, Boss finally grew a backbone! Way to go, Shrimpy!”

Azul groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I’m never hearing the end of this.”

You patted his shoulder. “Welcome to my life.”

Kalim Al-Asim

You really should have known something was wrong when Jamil showed up at your doorstep, eyes bloodshot and twitching slightly.

“I need your help,” he said, and those four words alone should’ve been your cue to lock the door and pretend you weren’t home.

But you didn’t, and that’s how you ended up sitting in Kalim’s opulent room, staring at a very excited otter splashing around in a gold-lined kiddie pool.

“You’re telling me Kalim turned himself into this?” you asked, pointing at the small, slippery creature currently attempting to roll onto his back and failing.

“Yes,” Jamil said, deadpan, rubbing his temples. “And he refuses to let anyone near him. Except apparently you.”

Kalim—the otter—perked up at the sound of your voice, flipping over and waddling toward you. He made a happy chirping sound before flopping dramatically onto your lap, his tiny paws grabbing at your shirt.

“See?” Jamil muttered, folding his arms. “This is why you’re staying here. I can’t deal with this anymore.”

Kalim was, to put it mildly, a handful.

One moment, he was contentedly snuggling in your lap, and the next, he was zooming across the floor, knocking over priceless vases and dragging an entire silk curtain into his pool.

“Uh, Kalim?” you called, watching as he tried to balance a sparkling golden spoon on his nose. “Maybe we don’t need to destroy the room?”

Kalim chirped in protest, clearly having the time of his life. He then waddled over to you, clutching the spoon like it was a treasure, and deposited it in your lap with a proud squeak.

“Well, at least he’s sharing,” you muttered, patting his head.

From the corner, Jamil was silently mouthing “thank you” over and over like a man who had just been freed from a lifetime of torment.

Kalim’s kiddie pool was more like a miniature lagoon, complete with floating toys and what looked suspiciously like a jewel-encrusted raft.

At some point, Kalim decided it would be fun to drag you into the water.

“Hey—wait, no!” you yelped as his surprisingly strong little paws grabbed at your sleeve, pulling you toward the pool. “I’m not getting in there!”

Kalim chirped insistently, his big otter eyes boring into your soul.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned. “Don’t give me that look.”

He gave you the look.

Five minutes later, you were sitting in the pool, soaked and glaring at Jamil, who was clearly struggling not to laugh.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you snapped.

“Immensely,” Jamil said, smirking.

After hours of otter chaos—during which Kalim managed to steal your shoe, splash water in your face, and attempt to juggle three golden coins—you finally sat back with a sigh.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, patting his head as he snuggled against you.

Kalim let out a happy chirp, his little paws clutching your hand. He looked so ridiculously adorable that, without thinking, you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

There was a sudden burst of light, and when you opened your eyes, Kalim was sitting in front of you, back to his usual self—though still dripping wet and grinning ear to ear.

“You kissed me!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up like the sun.

“I—uh—well,” you stammered, your face heating up.

“Does this mean you like me?” he asked, tilting his head with an innocent smile.

Before you could respond, Jamil groaned from the corner. “Sevens, just ask them out already.”

Kalim turned to you, his grin widening. “Will you go out with me?”

You blinked at him, still processing the fact that you had just kissed an otter-turned-human. But then you smiled, nodding.

“Sure, Kalim.”

Kalim cheered, pulling you into a hug that nearly knocked you over. Meanwhile, Jamil sighed in relief, celebrating about finally getting some peace and quiet.

From the doorway, a passing student peeked in, took one look at the drenched mess of a room, and decided it was better not to ask.

Vil Schoenheit

The day Vil Schoenheit turned into a peacock was the day you realized that your life at NRC was destined to never be normal.

“I don’t know how it happened!” Epel blurted, waving his hands in panic. “One second he was lecturing me about my skincare routine, and the next—poof! Peacock!”

“Of course, he’s a peacock,” you muttered, staring at the magnificent bird perched on the Pomefiore chaise lounge. The peacock in question—Vil—looked at you with a familiar haughty glare, which was impressive considering he now had beady bird eyes.

From the very beginning, Vil made it clear that he refused to be handled by anyone except you.

When Rook tried to approach him with a soothing poem about the beauty of nature, Vil screeched so loudly it sent even the huntsman scrambling.

When Epel tried to shoo him toward the door, Vil flared his tail feathers in a display so intimidating that Epel backed away, muttering, “This is worse than when he makes me wear lip gloss.”

But when you stepped forward, Vil immediately strutted over, his glossy feathers shimmering under the light. He circled you once before settling at your feet, letting out a dignified coo.

“Well, at least someone likes me,” you muttered, kneeling down to pat his head.

Vil preened under your touch, looking every bit the diva he was even in bird form.

Life with peacock Vil was… an adventure.

For one, he refused to eat anything that wasn’t served on fine china.

“Are you serious?” you asked, holding up a bowl of birdseed.

Vil turned his head away with a disdainful chirp, his tail feathers twitching in annoyance.

“Fine,” you groaned, dumping the seed onto a porcelain plate. “Happy now?”

Vil cooed in approval, delicately pecking at the food like it was a Michelin-star meal.

Then there was the incident with the mirror.

You found him perched in front of the Pomefiore vanity, admiring his reflection with an intensity that could only be described as borderline obsessive.

“You’re really leaning into the peacock thing, huh?” you teased.

Vil shot you a look that screamed How dare you, you pleb? before returning to his reflection, fluffing his feathers dramatically.

After a few days of peacock antics—including Vil refusing to let Epel touch his feathers (Glaring at him like he was screaming "He’s going to ruin them!”) and scaring off an unfortunate group of first-years with his aggressive tail display—you decided enough was enough.

“Alright, Vil,” you said, sitting down beside him. “We need to figure out how to fix this.”

Vil cooed softly, nuzzling against your hand.

You stared at him, your heart melting a little. He was undeniably cute in his current form, but you missed the human Vil—the one who could scold you for slouching and deliver a flawless monologue at the drop of a hat.

Without thinking, you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his feathered head.

There was a blinding flash of light, and suddenly, you were no longer holding a peacock but a very human—and very flustered—Vil Schoenheit.

“You… kissed me,” he said, his cheeks turning an uncharacteristic shade of pink.

“I—uh—well, you were cute?” you offered weakly.

Vil blinked at you, his usual composure slipping as he processed your words. Then, to your surprise, a small smile tugged at his lips.

“Perhaps we should make this official,” he said smoothly, though the faint blush on his face betrayed his nerves. “Would you like to go out with me?”

You stared at him, your brain short-circuiting for a moment. Then, you smiled, nodding.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Vil’s smile widened, and for the first time since he’d turned back, you saw the confident, radiant Vil you knew and admired.

From the doorway, Rook peeked in, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Ah, the beauty of true love!”

Epel groaned, muttering, “This is the weirdest dorm ever.”

Idia Shroud

The day you were unceremoniously dragged into Idia’s room by Ortho, you knew something was amiss.

Ortho clasped his hands together as you stumbled inside. "Please take good care of Big Brother!"

“Wait, what?” you started, but Ortho was already zooming out the door, leaving you alone in the darkened chaos that was Idia’s sanctuary.

And there, sitting in the middle of the room on a glowing gaming chair, was a cat.

A very grumpy-looking cat with blue flame-like fur tips and unmistakable, judgmental yellow eyes.

“Idia?” you whispered, staring at the cat.

The cat hissed—its ears flat against its head. Yep, that was definitely Idia.

"Ortho wasn’t joking…" you muttered, inching closer.

Idia-the-cat glared at you, his tail swishing like a disapproving metronome. But as soon as you reached out a cautious hand, he hesitated before begrudgingly letting you scratch behind his ears.

He let out the tiniest, most reluctant purr.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, your grin growing. “You’re so cute like this.”

The purring immediately stopped, and Idia swatted your hand away with a mortified meow that screamed, Don’t push it.

It didn’t take long for you to realize Idia-the-cat was just as much of a shut-in as his human counterpart.

When you tried to offer him some cat toys Ortho had left behind, he ignored them completely—until you dangled a toy shaped like a gaming controller.

Then, he lunged at it with surprising ferocity, claws out and eyes gleaming with an intensity that said, This is serious business.

You had to stop him from knocking over his prized figurines while he chased the toy across the room.

“Idia, stop! That’s a limited edition!” you cried, diving to save a teetering anime girl statue.

Idia froze mid-pounce, his tail twitching guiltily.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you said, setting the figure back on its shelf. “You’re worse than Grim.”

Idia meowed in protest, and you could swear he was rolling his eyes.

After a few hours of babysitting Cat Idia—during which he refused to eat anything but snacks from his secret stash and managed to trap himself inside a VR headset—you were completely exhausted.

You flopped onto his bed, sighing. “Idia, you're my friend, but you’re so much work.”

The cat jumped up beside you, curling into a surprisingly neat ball. His flame-like fur glowed softly in the dim light, and for a moment, he actually looked peaceful.

Unable to resist, you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his head.

There was a sudden flash of blue light, and you yelped as a very human—and very embarrassed—Idia Shroud appeared beside you.

“W-What just happened?!” he stammered, his face as red as his fiery hair tips.

You blinked at him, your brain struggling to reboot. “Uh… I think true love’s kiss broke the curse?”

Idia froze, his expression cycling between mortified and completely panicked.

“Wait, d-does that mean you… like me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because if you don’t, I-I’m just gonna go dig my own grave now—”

You cut him off with a laugh, your cheeks burning. “Yeah, I like you, you dummy.”

Idia stared at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Then, after a moment, he managed a small, shy smile.

“I… like you too,” he mumbled, fiddling with a lock of his hair. “So, uh… do you maybe wanna… go out? Like, on a d-date or something?”

Your heart did a little flip. “I’d love that.”

From the doorway, Ortho peeked in, his face lighting up. “Brother, I knew you could do it! This is the best day ever!”

Idia groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Ortho, please!”

But despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t stop the small smile that lingered on his lips.

Malleus Draconia

The day began like any other—except for the part where a massive dragon blocked the sunrise by parking itself right outside your window.

You blinked blearily, rubbing your eyes. Surely, this was a dream.

Then you heard an enthusiastic voice from below. "Good morning! Do you like your new dragon?"

You leaned out the window to see none other than Lilia Vanrouge, waving up at you with far too much cheer for this absurd situation. Beside him, Sebek was on his knees, his fists clenched, eyes practically bleeding tears of devotion—or frustration. Hard to tell with Sebek.

“Lilia,” you called down, “what the hell is that?” You pointed at the dragon, who was now looking at you with suspiciously familiar glowing green eyes.

“Oh, that’s Malleus!” Lilia replied, as though this was completely normal. “He seems to have had a little… magical mishap.”

“MISTAKE OF FATE, NOT A MISHAP!” Sebek roared, glaring up at you like it was somehow your fault. “AND THE YOUNG MASTER HAS CHOSEN YOU TO TEND TO HIS NOBLE FORM!”

You stared at the dragon—Malleus—again. His enormous tail thudded against the ground in what you could only assume was agreement.

“...You’ve got to be kidding me.”

After some coaxing (read: being dragged out by Sebek while you were still in your pajamas), you found yourself face-to-face with Dragon Malleus.

He lowered his massive head toward you, his glowing eyes narrowing in what you could only describe as smugness. When you hesitated, he huffed, a cloud of warm smoke billowing over you.

“Okay, okay, I get it! You want attention,” you grumbled, reaching up to pat his snout.

The dragon let out a low rumble of approval, curling his tail protectively around you.

Sebek sobbed dramatically in the background. “TO THINK THE YOUNG MASTER TRUSTS YOU ABOVE ALL OTHERS! IT IS BOTH AN HONOR AND A TRAVESTY!”

“Sebek, for the love of the Seven, stop yelling,” you snapped. “I already have a headache.”

Lilia chuckled from his perch on a nearby tree. “Oh, this is delightful. I wonder if I should be worried for you or amused by Malleus’s possessiveness.”

Dragon Malleus growled at Lilia, his tail sweeping protectively in front of you like a giant scaly barrier.

“Noted, noted!” Lilia said with a laugh, holding up his hands.

After a day of being followed around by a giant dragon who wouldn’t let you out of his sight (and growled at anyone who dared approach), you were officially at your wit’s end.

“Malleus,” you said, crossing your arms. “I know you’re stuck like this, but you can’t just… kidnap me for emotional support!”

Malleus blinked at you, his big dragon eyes somehow managing to look both sheepish and stubborn.

You sighed, stepping closer. “You’re kind of cute like this, though,” you admitted, reaching up to scratch his snout. His eyes half-closed in contentment, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Then, on a whim, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his scaly cheek.

There was a sudden burst of magic, and you stumbled back as the massive form of the dragon shimmered and shrank. In its place stood a very human—and very flustered—Malleus Draconia.

“Child of Man,” he said, his face uncharacteristically red. “Your… your kiss… it broke the spell.”

You stared at him, your brain buffering. “Wait, true love’s kiss was the answer?!”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed.”

From behind you, Lilia cackled. “Oh, how romantic! A tale for the ages!”

Sebek, meanwhile, looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “T-T-THE YOUNG MASTER’S TRUE LOVE?! UNBELIEVABLE!”

Malleus stepped closer, his expression softening as he looked down at you. “If this spell has revealed anything, it is that my feelings for you are genuine. Will you allow me to court you properly?”

You blinked, your face heating up. “Uh… yeah. Sure. But maybe next time, we skip the whole ‘giant possessive dragon’ thing?”

Malleus chuckled, taking your hand. “Anything for you, my treasure.”

Sebek fainted on the spot.

Masterlist

[littlepuppers]

fantasizing about dog sitting rnnnn. I’ve never dog sat or anything, and everyone in my neighborhood has big dogs for protection. But i’m thinking if i did offer to dog sit and be told how to take care of the dogs and everything. I would bend down to put their food in their food bowls and he would trap my hips and start mounting me. i try to push him off but he starts barking and biting at my neck. frozen in fear, i try to wiggle my hips away but his doggy cock goes under my skirt. as he puts all his weight on me, my upper body is forced onto the cold floor, and my face into his food bowl. i yell at him to stop, heel, walk?

nothing works, he just keeps thrusting till he pushes my panties aside. no no no no please. my tears start to fall into the kibble as i lay there whimpering, still trying to push his paws off of my hips. but he pulls my hips closer and i feel his hot cock push into me. completely limp and terrified i realize i can’t get him off of me. he’s so big, pushing against my walls and fucking me so fast and i can’t help but moan a little bit because he’s hitting all of my spots. i start to get close and clench around him but he immediately bites down hard on my neck and pushes a huge doggy knot inside me. i scream into the food and am forced to not move because i feel like ill split open if i do.

god. what the fuck. i need this dog off of me now. his slobber dripping off my neck and his teeth marks littered across it. these are definitely gonna bruise. fuck everyone’s gonna find out. i feel his hot doggy semen pool into me and leaking into my cervix, it’s the most disgusting feeling. maybe he’s done now? i try to push his paws off again and he starts to back up.

NOT DONE FUCK. i get dragged a few inches back because fuck he’s fucking stuck in me and have to wait this shit out for god know how long. it hurts, i still feel his cum , now leaking out of me and making a huge mess on the floor. he starts licking the back of my neck and licking off the kibble stuck to my face.

“dumb fucking dog,” i say but he grunts and harshly backs up as i hear a POP and liquid splashing on the ground. my legs shake and give out as i fall down into the dogs mess of cum. so gross. i feel his cold snout pushing my butt back up and he starts licking into my hole, pushing his semen back in. fuck. get the fuck away please i can’t take more. he leaves me.

for the next few days of dog sitting i’ve felt his cum constantly leak out of me and he doesn’t stop trying to push his snout up my skirt. he even does it when the owners come back and i hand them the keys back. they snap and him and say no, only to notice his red cock out and dripping as he’s sniffing me. i push him away and walk out, thankful that it’s over, looking down annoyed and disgusted as i see more of his arousal dripping down my leg.

(fuck i got so carried away writing this, so sorries :33)

[annwrites]

⸻ a call to arms. part one. ⸻

· pairing: jacaerys velaryon x dragonseed!reader · type: part of a series · summary: desperate to provide aid to your starving family due to the blockade, you venture, along with a great many other lowborns, to dragonstone, in hopes of gaining something—anything—which you might bring back to them; something to fill your little sister's belly. things turn out quite the opposite as planned, as what you now believe to be a mad queen, locks all of you in her dragonpit, and you're forced to run, hide, & fend for your lives against two hungry dragons. in the end, only two individuals are left standing: hugh hammer, who has now claimed for himself vermithor...and you—chosen by silverwing. just when you believe things can't possibly get any worse, you then meet prince jacaerys. · word count: 1,674

He grinds his teeth together, filled with utter contempt—disgust—that whatever you are—bastards, lowborns, flea-ridden rats—are now, above all else, dragonriders.

And he is meant to share common spaces with you now? Such as the Great Hall? Meant to pass you in the halls and tolerate the sight of you?

To ride alongside you?

To treat you with...what? Kindness? Generosity for having 'come to his mother's aid'? He will most certainly not be treating, nor addressing you as an equal. Either of you.

To be a dragonrider...it is a sacred bond. And now he is meant to believe that even the lowest scum Flea Bottom has to offer has the same right as he to sail the skies, unleashing fire and blood upon the enemy?

Never.

He will never.

The rest of them got what they deserved for thinking they had any right to claim that which is meant only for those like him.

Queens and kings, princes and princesses, lords and ladies alike.

He is better than both of you.

Even if he is similar in ways he does not want to admit...

Boots echo against stone floors, dark curls falling over dark eyes, a brooding temperament within.

Jacaerys emerges into the Great Hall, Hugh promptly rising from his seat, bowing his head. "My Prince."

Jacaerys studies him for but a moment, briefly judging the plain-colored clothes he dons, before turning his sights across the room to you, who is seated between two stained-glass windows, arms wrapped around your bent knees, while you cast your attentions outward, instead of on him.

Your Prince.

Your superior.

He clenches his jaw at the sight of your long, silver hair that moonlight casts in an ethereal glow, making it appear as if it is sparkling. Cascading down your back like molten silver in soft waves.

"You there—girl—do you know how incredibly rude it is for you not to stand and curtsy when in the presence of royalty?"

You jolt—torn from tormented memories of but a couple days past; of people running, screaming for mercy. Dying choking on their own blood as dragonfire burns them alive.

None of you had anticipated—had imagined—that the very queen you were coming to, under the guise of offering your aid to in the war, would lock you in a room to be eaten by terrifying beasts.

Aegon deserves the throne in comparison to such a monster.

You have made a great mistake, mayhaps. Then again, becoming a dragonrider has already filled your belly, provided you with clean sheets to sleep upon, a guard outside your door, hot baths.

But it is not you who needs these things. You want them for your family.

There is no turning back now, however. You knew as much with certainty when that silver dragon laid her head at your feet before leaning forward, brushing her warm snout against your abdomen while you struggled to contain your bladder and bowels. While you sobbed hysterically, begging for mercy from a being that you do not so much as share a common language with.

You know not a word of High Valyrian, though you will now be expected to learn, you suppose.

Among many other things. Such as how to ride the animal...

Your stomach twists nervously at the thought.

You turn away from the window, slide off the ledge, then grab your skirts in either of your hands before tucking a foot behind your other ankle, bowing. "My Prince."

He scoffs, coming closer. "That was the worst curtsy I've ever seen."

You fold your hands in front of you, keeping your eyes downcast. "Forgive me, My Prince, it is...the first time I've attempted one."

He rolls his eyes, settling his arms behind his back before glancing over his shoulder to Hugh, jerking his head toward the hall he's just come from, and he quickly makes himself scarce.

He looks back to you.

"And what is your name?" He demands.

"Y/N," you state quietly.

A muscle in his jaw feathers. "You are to look at me while we're speaking. Do you understand?"

You nod, trailing your eyes upwards—over a red-and-black velvet tunic, the three-headed symbol of his house embroidered upon the breast—until they're looking into hues of chocolate-brown.

He clenches his hands into tight fists behind his back.

You've every trademark of a pure Targaryen: silver hair, lilac eyes—with flecks of violet—skin so fair it's near-translucent, delicate features.

He fucking loathes you for every asset which you possess and he does not.

He would never—will never—state it aloud, but you look far more Targaryen than he ever will.

He wishes one of the dragons had taken you down its gullet as well. That way, he would not be forced to suffer the nigh-daily sight of you now.

He looks you over, circling you like a dragon does its prey—desperate to find something he may use to mock you with; some imperfection—before standing tall before you again.

"You think wearing rags before your Queen's court appropriate?"

Your expression quickly settles into a scowl.

Good, he thinks. Give him an excuse to introduce you to the Queen's justice. He is silently begging you for as much within his malice-filled gaze.

Your small hands clench into fists at your slender sides. "My mother made this dress for me."

His jaw ticks. "From now on, you will wear more suitable clothing when outside your private chambers—which means conservative in nature; not whatever men found desirable upon the Street of Silk. You are a representative of our house now. A dragonrider. A soldier to our cause. You will look the part."

Tears sting your eyes as yours bore into his own hatefully.

"I am not a whore," you reply contemptuously.

There is a beat of silence, his brows furrowing slightly. Surely you are lying. You have the look—more than.

And then you continue.

"And with what coin, My Prince?" You sneer.

He takes a step closer, causing you to shuffle backward, catching yourself against the window-ledge, the stone digging into your palms as you grip it to steady yourself.

He leans in close—your faces mere inches apart. "I beg your pardon?"

You do not shrink away from him.

Gods, you already hate him with all that you are.

"I came here for coin. Desperate for—"

"So greed is what sent you? Not to aid us in winning back my mother's throne? Her rightful seat. You come to steal away a dragon, and then what?"

"My family is starving!" You finally shout, at the end of your rope from the last few sleepless nights that've been filled with nightmares instead of rest; your temper having reached its limit. "My mother and little sister both! How would you feel if it were you? If your loved-ones were suffering, while all you could do is sit back and watch them waste away before you? So, yes, I came. I claimed a dragon—even if my intentions had only been merely to host audience with a clement queen who would provide aid to her suffering subjects. Not burn them alive for coming to help her!"

He grits his teeth. "You will watch your tongue, you insolent little wench. My mother sent boat-fulls of food to King's Landing. She has provided—"

You begin to laugh, with a lack of humor behind it all, cutting him off. "Oh, yes, how very kind of her to give aid to the very subjects she is responsible for the suffering of in the first place. The blockade is all your all's fault! People were fighting like dogs in the streets—assaulting—killing each other for a small sack of grain! I risked mine own life for a peck of potatoes! That's it! Even then, I was forced to wrestle a full-grown man off myself to get it. I was fortunate to escape with my life—with any food to speak of for my struggles!"

You step forward, forcing his royal highness to take a step back, and he swallows thickly.

"You've never known hunger a day in your life, have you? Never known what is it to wear 'rags' while you don your silk and velvet, while you sleep on thousand-thread count sheets, while you flout your jewels, and your fancy titles, and your gilded castles while the rest of us bow and scrape before your feet for a mere morsel of respect! You are meant to take care of us!"

Once you've finished, your heart pounds in your ears, your shoulders rapidly rise and fall, and it's then that you notice Prince Jacaerys' hand is tightly gripping the pommel of his sword—his knuckles having now gone white from the force.

Your eyes flit back to his, tears filling your own. "And I am meant to one day call you king, given we are 'successful' in our endeavors to win your mother back her glorified chair," you say, spitting the final word at him.

The two of you stand tall before the other, refusing to be the first one to break—your chins held high, even if your stomach is now twisting painfully into knots while your bowels turn to water.

If he puts you to death for your unimaginable disobedience—your disrespect...who will help your family then?

Your little sister... Your little girl.

She became as much when your mother went away in herself after your father's passing. It did not matter that you were still a mere child yourself when it happened. She became your responsibility to look after and tend to from that day forward.

And now...you feel as if you have failed her.

"Go to your room," he orders lowly, his body shaking from anger, brief pauses between each word.

You curtsy one last time.

"My Prince," you mumble, brushing past him, wanting to break something.

He stalks off in the opposite direction, feeling much the same: wanting to burn something—or, rather, someone—alive.

[igbylicious]

under the new moon [yunsan x reader]

pairing: yunho x f reader x san

rating: 18+

genre: werewolf au, smut, hurt / comfort

summary: an altercation with a hunter leaves you wounded, trapped in an aggressive frenzy, but Yunho and San know exactly how to safely bring you back home to them.

wc: 2.9k

general warnings: established relationship, supernatural werewolf strength for everyone, she/her pronouns for reader, pov switches, mentions of blood & injury, reader killed a werewolf hunter in self-defense, a pinch of angst, reader is literally feral and tries to fight yunsan first, they calm you down w/ sex yay

smut warnings: dom Yunho & San, feral sub reader, rough sex, manhandling, scratching, choking, biting, breeding kink, belly bulge, they got big dicks ofc, cum inflation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, knotting, DP (vaginal & vaginal / anal), vaginal / anal fingering, bodily fluids as lube, unprotected sex, pet names (good girl, darling)

a/n: idk yall, it’s not even themed for the mv i don’t know what happened??? maybe it was San’s fur coat maybe it was just the wolf living in my chest cavity. either way this was written in an unedited frenzy in the dark hours of the night, have fun! ( ˘ ³˘)♡

The forest is dark. Only stars shine overhead, the new moon casting no light on the trees and underbrush. Two large wolves prowl through woods, their path guided by the thick, metallic scent of blood.

The forest is quiet. Even during a new moon, its wildlife knows better than to cross the two predators. Even when unable to tap into the full height of their powers, they are dangerous.

Even more so when they are agitated with anger — and worry.

Yunho sniffs at the blood streaked over the bark of a felled tree. It’s still fresh. It’s yours.

San whines in concern, pressing his snout into Yunho’s neck to hurry him along. His black fur makes him near invisible in the cover of night, yellow eyes shining in the darkness. Usually the younger wolf is too rash, but tonight his impatience is justified. They don’t know how badly wounded you are. How much time you still have.

They found the hunter about two miles back, or what was left of him. Torn apart; a gaping hole in his abdomen opened by furious claws, his neck shredded by sharp teeth. (Deservedly so, Yunho had thought with quiet rage, when he saw a bloodied spearhead by the hunter’s side. The wooden shaft was shattered to pieces.)

Your trail leads them deeper and deeper into the forest, the night cold doing its best to penetrate Yunho’s thick silver fur. He tries to keep his head clear, to focus on finding you. He can’t afford to be distracted now, not by anger, not by fear, not by guilt.

It was a mistake, to let you go off on your own tonight. He knew the pack would be vulnerable tonight, he knew the human village nearby has been restless.

But Yunho can punish himself for his regrets later, because he also knows two other truths; the blood is still fresh, and you are strong.

They will find you. Alive. They will.

San growls in frustration when your bloody trail dissolves into a shallow river, the scent lost. The two wolves shift back into their human forms, wrapped in large fur cloaks, the ones they can take with them even when they turn. San’s pitch black, Yunho’s streaked with silver, matching the colour of their fur; and now their hair.

“She’s close,” San murmurs lowly, restless as he looks around the seemingly abandoned forest. “I can feel her.”

You are close. Closer than either of them realised.

The underbrush rustles, and San doesn’t even have the chance to blink before a shape pounces him from the shadows, snarling wildly. San curses as bloodied nails claw at his face, and he grabs at his assailant to hold them at bay — to hold you at bay.

Yunho’s eyes widen at the sight of you, feral and growling; your body human, but pure primal aggression in your mind. Fur cloak tattered, skin covered in scratches and bruises, an ugly gash on your shin. The injury does nothing to slow you down, momentum and surprise on your side as you pin San to the ground.

Yunho swears under his breath, leaping forward to help San to subdue you.

Fuck. You went too deep.

Had to push yourself too hard under this new moon, dug too deep for the power you needed to survive. Your wolf has overtaken you; and she is too frenzied to recognise friend from foe. To recognise her mates.

You yowl when Yunho grabs you by the scruff, yanking you away from San. You instantly turn on Yunho, scratching at his chest while you try to bite at the hand on your neck.

“San,” he grunts, hissing at the red marks your nails leave on his skin. “Now.”

San throws himself around you, pressing against your back as he grabs your wrists and locks his arms around your waist, engulfing you in his black furs. You snap at him, teeth flashing, but Yunho’s hand slips around your throat and he forces you to face him.

“Calm. Down,” Yunho growls, his own wolf instinctively rearing up against yours.

You can’t calm down. You can’t. Something is familiar about the two figures surrounding you, their scent like an itch in your memory — but it can’t penetrate the feral haze that’s taken over your mind. Your wolf trashes against their hold, howling danger, pain searing through your injured leg.

The bleeding has stopped by now, your regenerative powers feeding off your frenzy, but no matter how you struggle, you aren’t strong enough to break free from the two men and their strangely enticing smells. The hand on your throat tightens, your growls forced down to a weak wheeze as your body sags in their hold.

“Good. Good girl.” The hand relaxes, but does not release you entirely. Slowly they go down on their knees and lower you to the mossy forest ground, keeping you propped up between them. Long fingers brush up against a scarred patch of skin in the crook of your neck, and sudden heat lashes through you at the touch, drawing a sharp moan.

The one behind you groans and presses his nose into your hair, breathing in deeply. “Yunho…” he rasps, pulling you closer into him. Familiar name. Familiar scents. Familiar touch, fire licking sharply at your core. He is naked under his furs, same as you — and the growing hardness that twitches against your lower back is not unknown to you either. “F-fuck, she’s…”

“Yeah,” Yunho murmurs, rubbing his fingers into the mating bite he left on your skin years ago. “Her body remembers who she belongs with. Come, Sannie, let’s help her mind remember too.”

He pushes your tattered furs away to drop on the ground, and San takes immediate advantage to lap at his own newly exposed mark on your shoulder. You jolt in his hold, your wolf pulled in two directions. Yunho instantly tightens his grip again when you snarl and try to bite at San again — but he can smell your other, stronger instincts flare to life. His free hand finds wet slick when it slides between your thighs, a strangled whine torn from your obstructed throat.

San whines at the soft squelch when two of Yunho’s long fingers press inside you. Relief and hunger melt together inside him. You’re safe, back in his arms. They will take care of you now.

A primal need stirs in San’s blood as his teeth scrape over your skin, suckling at his old mating bite like his tongue can tease the memories out of you. Maybe it can. Or maybe it won’t be enough — maybe he needs to fuck them out of you. He groans, feeling dizzy on your scent, and ruts harder against your backside.

You’re trembling, gasping sharply as you’re pushed deeper on Yunho’s fingers by San’s humping. Every noise only fuels San’s need to fill you up, to ram his cock into your leaking hole until his knot catches, reminding your sweet cunt how the shape of him was made to fit inside you.

“Wanna touch…” he groans, gathering your wrists in one hand so he can reach down the other. Weakly you squirm against his hold; but it’s barely a fight, your aggressive haze subdued by your two mates.

Yunho grunts at the sight; he can’t deny it, his wolf preens at your submission. An animalistic urge to claim you, like he’s mating you for the first time all over again. Blood rushes down to his cock, revelling in your whimpers when San pushes another finger into your sopping cunt alongside his.

He watches how your stomach tenses and your thighs shake, telltale signs of a budding release, and he knows damn well his hand on your throat has long become unnecessary. He does not take it away.

Instead Yunho tilts up your head and he leans in, slotting his lips over yours. He groans when your lips part willingly for him, desirous for your mates. You whine as Yunho filthily licks into your mouth, adding another finger as he and San stretch you open for them. They’ll both take you tonight. Together. It hasn’t been said, but Yunho knows that San also knows this.

Mindlessly you grind into the fingers opening you up. You pant into the heated lips pressed against yours, a greedy tongue mapping out the wet cavern of your mouth. Wanton moans spill freely, growing louder with every added finger to your twitching cunt. Every time you think this must be your limit, and every time they prove you wrong, sending your head spinning.

You’re chasing something, barely knowing what it is, but hunting it down with every buck of your hips all the same. Something familiar again, pulling taut inside your aching cunt. It pulls, pulls, tighter and sharper until finally the strings snap. You cry out a ragged yowl as electrified heat tears you asunder, convulsing in the strong arms that hold you up.

You don’t even notice those hungry lips pulling away from your mouth — not until two sets of teeth sink deep into your shoulder and neck, into those two scarred spots that make your heart sing like it can finally come home.

With a wretched sob you clutch onto them, your hands finally released from San’s iron grip. He presses rough, reverent kisses against the broken skin of your shoulder, clumsy with urgency as he slips his fingers out of your cunt and grabs onto your waist. He barely waits for Yunho to pull his hand away, too frenzied to finally sink his cock into the wet hole where it belongs.

Yunho chuckles with dark fondness at San’s impatience, running his slick fingers through San’s hair as he presses a kiss on his matted forehead. “That’s it. Show her,” he whispers, and San whines at the encouragement, fingers digging harder into the meat of your hips.

“Y-you too,” he grunts tightly, strained as the last shreds of self-control slip through his grasp. “Our mate— she needs you too.”

Yunho hums in acknowledgement, pressing another kiss on San’s forehead before he pulls back. He takes your arms and loops them around his neck, and his cock twitches at how pliantly you let him move you, nuzzling into his chest. Still trapped in your delirious haze, but your wolf tamed and rendered docile by their command over your pleasure, willingly surrendering you to them.

You whine beautifully, your glistening folds parting to make way when Yunho guides his thick cock inside your loosened cunt. For all their efforts to stretch you open, both of them are big, and Yunho groans when he sees how your stomach bulges as he presses deeper inside. He takes San’s hand and guides it so he can feel the swell of them in your belly.

And something snaps inside of San.

He bares his teeth with a wild snarl, bucking his hips as he fucks into you recklessly. Fresh bites litter your shoulders, future bruises forming under his grip on your waist. You’re jostled by his rough thrusts, whimpering loudly as you claw at Yunho’s shoulders.

Yunho growls at the sting of your nails, meeting San’s violent pace. You’re moaning helplessly against his chest, hiccuping soft “ah ah ahh”s as they hit deep inside your needy, sopping cunt.

“Gonna fill you up,” San growls, lost in his frenzy. “Fill that belly with every drop of seed we got. Not gonna stop until we got you stuffed and bred. Won’t even know whose litter it is, won’t even matter. Ours, you’re ours.”

You whine in mindless agreement, trembling between them.

“You like that, hm? Like the thought of carrying our pups?” Yunho chuckles, though it comes out more a groan. You’re still so tight around him, San’s cock sliding against his in the snug space they made for themselves inside you. “You remember who you belong with now?”

His last question causes a hesitation in your squirmy moans, but it only spurs Yunho on harder. He can’t feel his knot begin to swell yet, so he just slams into you, drowning in every wet squelch of your leaking hole, only needing a few hard thrusts before he groans and spills inside you. Yunho hisses when San does not slow down — but his own cock does not soften yet. This night is far from over.

San moans at the smoother slide as he fucks Yunho’s seed deeper inside your hole. It does not take him long to follow, his hand on your stomach feeling every thrust as he buries himself into you, hips stuttering when he comes with a low growl. He pants against your shoulder, nosing at his mating bite, barely even slowing down through his release. Yunho starts moving again too, drawing fresh moans from your lips.

You feebly gurgle something against Yunho’s chest, the foggy haze in your mind consisting of nothing but white-hot pleasure now.

It’s overwhelming and yet you can’t get enough of it; addicted to the stretch, to the fullness that grows every time they cum inside you, until you can’t take more, their seed leaking out past their thick lengths and bubbling at the rim. You’re losing count, just as you’ve lost count of all the times you’ve clenched around them, milking their cocks as another orgasm was ripped from your worn-out cunt.

You can’t tell anymore where you end and where they begin, their hands and cocks melded into your body — until one hand wanders, first down to your sodden folds to slick up his fingers, then back to your ass. You whine as a thick finger eases past the tight muscle; but your body is so pliant and relaxed, melting away in the haze of pleasure, and soon the slight burn only makes you greedy for more.

San groans when you weakly press your ass back into him, two fingers now working you open, and then another. He will knot soon, he can feel it pulsing at the base of his cock; and no matter how well they stretched you out, they will break you if they both knot in your cunt.

But San does not mind taking your ass instead — he can feel the beautiful swell of your stomach, distended from the sheer amount of cum that you took so well from them. He did his part there, now happy to bury himself between your plump asscheeks.

You whimper when San pulls out, a sudden emptiness at the loss of him, but bite down a gasp when he pushes back inside your other hole. His cock is slick with cum, smoothly continuing his rough pace.

Yunho sighs contently at the loose and easy slide of your cunt, using this chance to fuck harder into you. He guides you to sit upright, cupping your chin to steady you. He tilts your head up, giving himself a good look at the blissed-out expression on your face. Nothing but empty pleasure behind your teary eyes, all your earlier fear and aggression wiped clean. Leaving yourself vulnerable and exposed between them, knowing you are safe here. That you can let it all go.

“Got one more for us, darling?” he grunts, trying to hold back a little longer. “Show us how good we make you feel?”

The words come to you through a thick fog, but you heed them all the same. You can’t help it, not when nimble fingers suddenly press against your clit, pinching at the swollen, oversensitive nub. Your entire body seizes up with a strangled cry, and you sob at the pure, overwhelming fullness as two knots swell up inside you, plugging both your holes.

You’re shaking, tears spilling down your cheeks as you slowly come down. Four hands move warmly over your body; rubbing your back, your shoulders, the distinct swell of your belly. One of those hands cups your cheek, lifting you up to meet a pair of shiny brown eyes.

Yunho’s eyes.

He smiles tiredly with rounded cheeks, long fingers gently caressing your jaw. Your breath catches at the recognition, staring back at him with wide eyes before you whip your head to look back. There, San gives you a slow, satisfied grin, his cheeks flushed and sweat beading on his forehead.

Relief breaks through your haze, and the sudden outpouring of emotion is too much for you to carry.

San startles when you hiccup a weak sob, and he immediately presses soothing kisses on the scattered bites he left on your shoulder. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. We’re here,” he murmurs. “We got you.”

“I know, I know” you snivel, grateful for Yunho carefully wiping away your tears. “You found me. I knew you’d find me.”

“Of course we found you,” Yunho smiles as he gently rubs his thumb over your cheekbone. “You wouldn’t let us lose you. You always find your way back to us.”

Your shoulder shake silently as their arms wrap around you, engulfing you in their body heat. You slump into their solid, strong frames and relish how they’re still connected inside you. It will take time for their knots to come down, and they fully intend to use every second of it to lavish you with tender affection. You sink away into the comfort of them, knowing you are safe and home again.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Mignon's Halloween

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: The eleventh of my Halloween-centric fics

It's Jana that finds the headline first. It's Jana who opens her phone one day on camp to see it trending.

'Barcelona Superstar to Return to her Childhood Club?'

With her contract running out in the summer, question marks over whether young French star y/n l/n will stay at Barcelona remain but eagle eyed fans think they've solved the mystery.

In a recent TikTok posted on her girlfriend's account, the young star seems to have been pictured wearing her old Olympique Lyonnais jersey.

Click Read More below to see what our experts think of this startling discovery:

It's Jana that slides her phone over to Alexia at breakfast. It's Jana who has to explain that the site looks kind of sketchy and it likely isn't true.

But then you start posting things while you're away on camp with France.

Most of it is harmless stuff. The kind of stuff Alexia expects from a teenager back in their home country - a few harmless pranks on your teammates, a picture of you and your parents, a cute video of you kissing your girlfriend's cheek.

But then there's a random selfie of you in your childhood bedroom.

You're relaxed back on your pillows, your family dog laying on your chest.

His snout is covering the emblem over your heart but Alexia can recognise a Lyon jersey anywhere.

That's when she gets a bit worried.

You left Lyon because you wanted game time they wouldn't give you. You'd pushed a bit too hard for game time and they'd told you they weren't going to renew your contract.

Surely you wouldn't go back to them now.

Surely even if they begged and begged and begged, you'd hold yourself in a high enough regard that you wouldn't go back to them.

But the Lyon shirt pops up a few more times while you're away.

There's even a video of your girlfriend wearing one of your old jerseys as she walks her own dog.

"Don't tell me you're stalking the girlfriend now," Mapi gripes as Alexia stares down at her phone," The kids can have fun without you hovering over them."

"I'm not stalking anyone!"

"You haven't even met her girlfriend yet you follow her on every bit of social media you can find her on."

"That's for safety. I'm making sure she's a good one."

"I think y/n is capable of choosing her own girlfriend."

Alexia makes a face and Mapi corrects herself.

"I think y/n's parents are capable of approving a good girlfriend. Don't be so worried."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Alexia mutters, looking up from her phone when you finally walk in with Vicky.

The both of you are speaking in hushed whispers, giggling to yourselves until you both split off to go to your own cubbies.

Back when Lucy still played with the team, your cubby used to be next to hers but now that she's gone back to England, you've been moved next to Alexia so she can keep an eye on you.

"So," She says, trying to be as casual as she can," How was camp?"

You give her an odd look. "Yeah it was alright. But you know that already. Because you're a stalker."

"Why does everyone think I'm a stalker?!"

"You follow my girlfriend on all your social media. You didn't even create a fake account."

"Fake account? What's that?"

You smile at her, the same smile that Vicky does at camp when Alexia tries to show off one of those dances from TikTok that she knows young people like.

"Don't worry about it." You pull on your training shirt. "Is the Halloween party thing still on for tonight?"

"Yes, why?"

"Just checking. I might be a little late though. I've got a meeting with my agent."

Alexia tries to make it seem like she's not all that interested in it but she isn't quite sure it works. "Oh? What about?"

"Just contract stuff. I'm going to head off with Vicky before training," You say," We're going to see if we can break into the vending machine again."

Normally, Alexia would try to stop you but her eyes catch on the familiar white of the Lyon shirt you have stuffed in your bag.

The sinking feeling in Alexia's chest returns in full force, staying with her for most of the day to the point that she finds herself glancing at you much more than she usually does.

"She's not going to just up and leave," Patri says that evening at the Halloween party," She loves it here."

"She had Lucy here with her," Alexia points out," They spoke French together. None of us speak French. What if she misses speaking French?"

Irene rolls her eyes, slightly preoccupied with making sure that her son isn't eating all of the sweets that Marta has been spoiling him with. "She calls her parents regularly. She calls her girlfriend. And I can speak French. She's not been missing the French language in the slightest."

"But what if-"

"If she's leaving us," Marta says, reaching across the table to give Matteo another skittle," Then it won't be for Lyon."

Alexia finds it kind of hard to believe Marta when she's dressed in an inflatable pig costume.

"She's meeting with her agent and-"

"And she's here," Patri interrupts, chin jerking towards the door that you've just slipped in through.

"She's wearing it!" Alexia hisses, heart thumping in her chest," The Lyon shirt! She's wearing it! This is it. This is it. She's leaving us."

"No way!" Vicky laughs from across the room," You actually did it?"

You grin back at her, showing off your ripped shirt. "I think Laporta thought I was crazy when I pulled out the scissors and the lighter. What do you think? Do I look axe-murderer victim enough?"

"Do you mind if we add blood?" Vicky asks.

"You have fake blood? You should have led with that!"

You and Vicky barely take a moment to look at the congregation of captains at the table before you're pouring blood all over your head and shirt, really rubbing it all over the white fabric.

Alexia's mouth hangs up just as Jana's phone chimes with a notification from the Barcelona Femení account.

Happy Halloween Culers!

FRENCH SUPERSTAR HERE TO STAY! Find out more below!⬇️

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

(got bored and decided to write this so enjoy and please tell me if you would like more HTTYD in the future in the comments!)

The Gates Of Valhalla

Hiccup couldn't do anything but stare, wide eyed at you in front of him.

He could feel the world blur around him, his breathing picking up as he looked down at you, laying on the sand surrounded by the blue ice, eyes closed.

Chest never moving.

Hiccup could hear people talking, people like his mother and father, his father's hand on his shoulder as Hiccup tried his best to wake up from the nightmare.

He didn't.

"No…no, no, no! Oh, gods, no!" Hiccup cried out, quickly falling to his knees as he grabbed you, bringing you closer to him.

Almost on his lap, Hiccup checked for any sign, anything, that you were still in there.

He could feel the dread, the tears pricking his eyes and the hand of his father, his mother's stare at him as he checked for anything.

He looked for the small twitch in your face he saw every morning he woke up to you. He looked for the pattern your chest rose and fell, a rhythm he loved to feel while his head laid on your chest.

Hiccup cried, a tear falling down his face as he never found one movement.

He still prayed, putting his head to your heart to listen to the familiar best he used to calm down, only to find absolute silence.

You were gone.

Drago and his own dragon, a self proclaimed Alpha, owned by him, had sentenced you to your death.

Or rather, they had sentenced Hiccup to his death, but you being you, jumped in the way to sacrifice yourself, saving Hiccup's life, and forfeiting your own.

But all they did was sentence Hiccup to something far worse than death.

A life without you.

And they used Toothless to do their dirty work.

Hiccup heard the small growl of your own dragon, the way they nozelled their snout against your arm, trying to nudge you awake like they did every morning

You never moved.

Your eyes remained closed, Hiccup's eyes remained on your face, his hand cupping your cheek as he cried, crying for you to come back.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Everything blurred into thin lines, all Hiccup could do was watch as just mere minutes, or an hour he didn't know, Toothless was taken by Drago, along with your life.

Hiccup and the rest of the dragon riders, your friends, Gobber and his mother and father, Valka and Stoick the Vast, all stood alongside the shore.

Hiccup had to be pried away from you, crying and clinging on to the love of his life, in order to place you on the shop, a sheet over you to send you off to the Gates of Valhalla.

Hiccup watched as his friends mourned. Never did he think he would see the day his own father cried, mourning the loss of a child who wasn't even his, but one he watched grow up alongside him.

Hiccup starred as the ship slowly sailed off, a bow and flaming arrow in his hand, limping held with a heavy heart as he watched you leave.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

You were supposed to come home with Hiccup. You were supposed to get older, beside Hiccup and your dragon.

Hiccup was supposed to be the cause of the laugh and smile wrinkles on your face as you got older.

Hiccup was meant to stand before you and reiterate an oath he did when you guys stood in the woods as mere seven year olds, promising to marry and to stay by each other's side.

Hiccup couldn't help but be angry at himself and you. It was meant to be him. Not you. He was meant to be lying under that sheet. Not you.

The anger didn't last long, the sadness and heavy feeling in his chest overpowering it.

With a small nudge from his mother, Hiccup let one more tear fall, before his trembling hand lifted his arrow, notching it back.

Hiccup closed his eyes, turning his head away as he let it go.

Hiccup only opened his eyes once more when he heard every arrow stop, looking up to see your ship engulfed in flames.

It was the burial of a viking. One you would have wanted.

But Hiccup would've rather had you standing beside him, rather than leaving him behind with your memory.

"...Hiccup."

Hiccup barely looked at his father, his hand now coming back to rest on his shoulder. Hiccup didn't answer, looking back as your ship was almost engulfed in the fog, the flames growing bigger.

Hiccup had to say goodbye, with a heavy and hesitant heart, anger, fear and sadness creeping down into his gut.

It should've been him. Not you.

He shouldn't mourn the love of his life at a mere twenty years old, and even if he spent those twenty years with you, he would have to go on, grow older, as you were forever twenty.

"...I pray to the gods I will find you waiting at the gates of Valhalla, (Name)."

[the-ancient-dragons]

Welcome back to Overcomplicating the Pyrrhian Tribes! This week: the beloved RainWings!!

You know what's up. Joy Ang and Tui are so cool and I am just me.

Details and explanation below!

Otherwise, next week are the chilly IceWings! See you then!!!

More overcomplicated dragons.

I knew the RainWings would be really important, and I think they turned out the best of all the ones I've done. I think they're my favourite because they are basically the perfect mix of extra realism spice without altering Joy's design too much. The SkyWing design is awesome and I love it to bits, but it is one of the two that are the farthest from canon.

As for the RainWing.... I had. So. Much. FUN. I heavily used chameleons and snakes - they're basically the two main species on my research board - but there is a dash of cuttlefish and frilled lizard in there. Where, you ask? Well if you look closely, all over the RainWing are little tiny flecks of darker colour. I found a beautiful reference of a close-up on a cuttlefish eye. Its skin is dotted in thousands of little marks and I thought that would be perfect for the RainWing, who can camouflage just as well as them. I don't know if it's been discussed in canon but I bet they could animate their scales more than just colour shifting - cuttlefish are known for using their rapidly shifting patterns to hypnotize prey. RainWings could do it too, sort of like Ka from Disney's 2D animated Jungle Book.

Speaking of Ka - snakes. I love snakes. The head structure of the RainWing here is very smooth and rounded with muscles based on snakes like the python. I was even going to originally draw them in a venom striking pose and got as far as completing the lineart, but ultimately decided it wouldn't fit the calm portraits of the other tribes.

Will you see it in the future? Hell yeah! Pure, unhinged, magical death spit. Looking at it now I might try to alter it to be a full piece of Glory attacking Scarlet or Crocodile.

In the striking pose you can see the frills much better, but I still took my time on this serene pose (this is where the frilled lizard influence comes in). If you notice that I've drawn every scale (every single scale) then, yes, I am insane. If you didn't know that yet, you know it now. You have to draw guide lines and follow them meticulously while you wonder why you don't make a scale brush, and then cry because you know the randomness and imperfections that come from drawing a thousand circles is how it looks natural. The eye area is actually my favourite part, since drawing dragon eyelids was the original inspiration for doing this. Did I mention that? I wanted to draw eyelids.

EYELIDS.

I digress. Besides the eyelids, I like the frills on the action pose, but this pose is where I like the body scales more. When zooming in on my chameleon colour refs, I noticed the very rhythmical distribution of their scales and figured I would give it a try. They actually do have extra large circular scales along their bodies, which is where I guess the canon RainWing design gets it from. Very clever, Joy!

Anyway, on this version, those small circular scales appear on the face. Not only that, but I added a bit of influence from the snouts of my ref chameleons by extending the nose bridges to wrap around the nose horn. They blend in so seamlessly and that's the reason why I love this design - it's subtle, barely there, mostly Joy but a little extra.

Wow, I talk too much. If you're here, thank you! It's not mandatory to read, but very appreciated. I heard once that visitors at an art gallery look at each piece an average of 2-3 seconds. Or was it 3-6? Idk, but it was shockingly short, and ever since then I've tried to encourage myself to pay more respect to other artists and glean their work for little details I skip after that quick glance. I could talk so much more about these designs but that would be like an hour long video, each, lol. If you have questions about anything, ask away!

[igotanidea]

New rules: Damian Wayne x reader

part 4 of "Family rules" series.

A/N: bit of a filler, cause it's been 3 months(!!!!), but promise next part will be more eventful :D

***

„What is this?!” her father yelled, almost throwing the Gotham newspaper in her face.

“I—”

“Let me tell you what this is! This is you kissing Damian Wayne! And your face is all over the newspapers’ front pages!”

“Stop screaming at me!” she spat back feeling her self-control slipping.

“You better tread carefully young lady. Last time I checked you were still living in my house.”

The nightmare began the second she got back from school, still reeling from everything that happened in the principal’s office. Y/N could barely step over the threshold when a tight grip on her shoulders yanked her back, pushing her into the chair in the living room, with a very angered Mr. Y/L/N hovering above her. Felt like a freaking interrogation because she dared to behave like a teenage girl falling in love for the first time in her life.

If her mother was still alive, she would understand. She would sit down with her, ask a lot of questions, let Y/N blush and be supportive as a mother could.

Instead the young girl had to deal with her father, who clearly forgot that part of the role, focusing only on acting as a CEO, whose daughter was fraternizing with the enemy.

And it made her feel guilty.

Guilty for her own feelings, as if falling in love was something shameful. As if he had to pick the right person to whom her heart should start beating. Or not. Not that she could have experienced that, yet¸ but judging by the screams and rage she could say that in the future her father might try to marry her off out of reason.  

“Dad, please listen, I –” her pleading tone was supposed to make the man realize that she wasn’t just a bargaining chip in his business’ development.

“I understand.” The response was cold, emotionless, almost ruthless, leaving no space for arguing.  

“No you don’t understand! You don’t understand! How could you possibly understand love when even mom was nothing more than a trophy wife for you-!“

Her outburst was immediately cut off by a slap and sharp stinging on the cheek followed by the reddened skin and pulsing blood.

“This is what your mother’s upbringing caused.” Her father hissed “ungrateful, stupid, snouted brat. But let me tell you something. This ends here. And if you want to keep living on my expense, you will do as I tell you!”

“I’m 17! I’m underage, you can’t just cast me out!”

“Unless you want to find out what I’m capable of, I advise you to listen to the plan you’re just a pawn in.”

***

“What is it, Damian?” Bruce asked his youngest son when he came back from school. If there was any anger or disappointment in him, he did a great job hiding it.

“It’s nothing.” Said youngest muttered bellicosely.

It obviously had to come to this stupid awkward conversation with his father but Damian was not going to admit anything easily. And the fact that the boy only just realized that he might be slightly in love with Y/N Y/L/N was causing him to act even more coldly and aloofly than usually.

“Son…”

“I said it’s nothing!”

“So you kissing that girl was just you having fun? Or maybe you were trying to humiliate her?”

“What? No!”

“Look, you are a boy. It's okay if you want to blow off steam. It’s understandable.” Bruce smirked, clearly setting a trap for Damian with the reverse psychology trick.

“You understand? Because you had so much blowing off steam when you were younger?" Obviously the boy raised by Thalia Al-Ghul and Ra’s Al-Ghul was smarter than to fall for something so childish. “Besides, it’s such a humiliating experience. I have no interest in primitive youthful pleasures and amorous activities, father.”

“You sure about it?”

“Positive.” Damian crossed arms over his chest, having his face expression under perfect control.

“Good. Get ready for patrol then. We’ll be leaving soon.”

Damian nodded and with stern look and pursed lips left the room, allowing Bruce to finally let out a sigh of worry. His son may have been a skilled vigilante trained in restraint of emotions, but he could not trick Batman himself. It was impossible to notice how Damian’s eyes were focused on that little Y/L/N during all of last night’s gala. Showing much more than just resentment. And then the dance, which Bruce didn’t even have to force him into. And the way his boy was holding that girl. It was almost obvious that Damian had in fact an interest in amorous activities.

And unlike Y/n’s father, Bruce was not mad about it. In fact, he was quite relieved. As long as possible the relationship would not detriment Damian’s Robin duties of course. But seriously, as a father of a 17 year old, Bruce knew that it was only a matter of time when dilemmas and problems related to love and adolescence would come forward.

And unlike Y/N;s father Bruce was going to watch it carefully, intervening when needed, giving a push here and there, but without obvious control.

***

She was crying a waterfall, holding onto the bruised cheek wondering how to best cover it up so no one at school would ask silly questions.

Locked in the room on the first floor, making the most stern resolution to avoid Damian Wayne for dear life. Even if that was the last thing she would do in her life, she wouldn’t get closer than three rows of desks in the classroom.

For what Y/N cared, Damian Wayne was now officially dead to her.

***

He was sitting on the branch of a giant tree next to her house, dressed in Robin costume, observing how the girl walked into her room with a hand on her cheek, though the distance didn’t allow him to uncover why. Was she sick? Would she be at school tomorrow? Maybe the press got to her and she hurt herself running away from the paparazzi?

“Damian.”

AH! He almost fell to the ground.

“Yes, father?”

“What are you doing?”

“Observing.”

“What?”

“The target.”

“Hm.”

“What now?”

“Unless the target changed age, gender and appearance—”

“Our criminal is currently running down 34th street.” Damian cut his father off abruptly and roughly “his tires are about to burst in about 100 meters due to the explosive I planted there. The explosion will give us enough momentum to jump into action and catch him with the stolen goods in his trunk. That is if we get into action in 3…2…1…” he swiftly shot into the air without paying attention to his companion and even less to his words.

As if Batman was trying to suggest Damian might have been watching her.

Huh! Ridiculous!

***

“Hey Y/n, what happened to your face?” The same girl that used to laugh her out about ending up on the pages kissing Damian, guffawed the next day seeing the poorly covered bruise on Y/N’s face.

“None of your fuckin business -“

“Oh, such bad words coming out of the little princess' mouth, isn’t it?”

“Get lost Lisa!” Y/N shut the locker and tried to walk past her bully.

“You will not ignore me!” Lisa hissed and yanked the other girl’s hair back.

“GIRL FIGHT!” someone yelled and in a blink of an eye the corridor was filled with students cheering on one or the other girl as they started to circle around each other waiting for the moment to strike. Before teachers arrived Y/N was on the floor, blocking the hits that Lisa, who was sitting atop her kept on throwing.

“GET OFF ME!”

“YOU WILL RESPECT MY POSITION IN THIS SCHOOL!”

“YOU’RE A BULLY!”

“I’M A QUEEN!”

“OF MENTAL SICKNESS!"

“HE’S MINE!”

“Wait… what?” Y/N stuttered and the moment of confusion ended up in the perfectly aimed nose punch and a quite decent bleeding. Followed by Lisa’s vindictive smile.

“Now your nose matches your cheek.”

“ny-noze….”  tears pricked from Y/N’s eyes from the combined pain and shock. It was not just about the fight, but everything that happened in the last couple days. Her father’s abuse because of falling in love and now Lisa’s torment because of pretty much the same followed by a girl’s jealousy.

“What is happening here?” Fuck, why were the teachers always appearing  after the drama happened.

“She attacked me!” Lisa exclaimed, putting on an innocent face. “So aggressive, I suppose it’s because she was raised only by one parent.”

For a second the principal and the tutor were looking between untouched Lisa and beaten up, bleeding Y/N. It was clear who was the casualty, nonetheless it was Lisa’s family who’s been giving generous donations to school.

“Get up from the floor Y/N.” she was finally instructed and on shaky legs and with dizziness she clumsily stood up still clutching her nose. “This is your second stunt this week. You’re coming to my office and this time, I won’t go lightly on you.”

“It was not her fault.” Someone from the crowd of the students dared to speak up and the people parted, revealing the fuming….

Damian Wayne.

“it was Lisa—”

“Oh, I don’t feel well!” Lisa exclaimed accidentally falling right into Damian’s arms “I feel like I’m going to faint—”

“Mr. Wayne, take Mrs Thomas to the nurse’s office so she can be tended to.”

“What-?” Damian swiftly avoided Lisa’s fall and the girl almost ended up on the floor. “No.”

“N-no?”

“No. Y/N was the one who was attacked. And for crying out loud, she’s the one bleeding and needing medical attention. So no, I’m not taking her—” he threw a glance at Lisa “anywhere when there’s someone else in need.”

“U-uh…” the principal still had in mind the humiliation he was subjected to last time when he had Damian and Y/N talk to him. “Fine! Fine, you take her to the nurse, though it’s completely unnecessary and –” half a sentence and two of them were already halfway away “Fuck. I mean, you all go back to your classes! There’s nothing to see here! Now go, before I put you all in detention!”

***

So her resolve to avoid Damian was broken on the first day. 

And it was about to get even harder from now on. 

_________________________________________

part 5: Cracking

@6000-fandoms @beyond-your-stars @mikyapixie

@heartz4miz @crookedmakerfury @mariam12344 @celestair

@faimmm @hornyslasher @urdarlingali

[dancingdonatello]

I LOVE YOUR WRITING AHHHHHHH✨✨✨✨✨

Could you please do a fanfic if ROTTMNT fanfic!? Donnie X Reader (female) Basically everyone was going to a Jupiter Jim convention and April made a joke about Reader cosplaying Atomic lass and Donnie spent like a week trying to convince Reader into it. (She ends up doing it😂) TYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY keep up the AMAZING work!!!

rise donnie x fem reader

“Is anyone dressing up?”

“We’re already in our costumes.” Leo posed, flexing green muscles. “Alien power.”

April rolled her eyes and turned her gaze to you. “You?”

“I dunno who I would even go as.” You answered, curled up against Donnie’s side. He was looking at something on his phone, barely listening or paying any attention.

“Why don’t you go as Atomic Lass?”

Like out of a horror movie, Donnie’s neck cranes to look at you from where you next to him. You have never seen his eyes so dilated in your entire time of knowing him. “Yes.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “What if I don’t want to?”

“Why wouldn’t you want to?”

April began snickering and you shot her a glare. ‘Look at what you did’ was what you were trying to portray through your betrayed look.

“Because.” You stubbornly look away from his prying gaze.

“Because you hate me.”

“No.”

“Because you want to cause mental and physical harm to my well-being.”

“No!”

“Then do it!” He grabbed you by the shoulders, eyes glowing with the intensity of his gaze. “Think of all the possibilities.”

Leo wrinkled his snout. “Gross.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don.”

“Please?” He collapsed to his knees, clasping his hands together. “For me?”

“….” You quirked an eyebrow. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yes!”

You think it’s been the best week of your life. A perfect(ish) dinner cooked just for you, your very own massage, Shelldon attending your each and every need without any teenage complaining, and Donnie being the sweetest ever.

It’d be way sweeter if you knew there wasn’t a motive behind it. So you roll your eyes when he brings your hand up to his mouth to kiss it. You sigh as he goes on and on about how you’re the perfect significant other and how you match him completely. You yawn when he nuzzles closer to you during the reruns of your favorite show, the one he so happens to just not hate as much anymore.

The closer you got to the day of the con, Donnie seemed to be giving up. He’d pester you less and just stare off into the distance, all somber. What a drama queen.

Coincidentally, you couldn’t arrive to the con with the turtles. Donnie was immediately suspicious, especially since Leo had his portals and could just portal you there.

You got there ten minutes before Leo planned to get them there, smirking in your full costume of Atomic Lass. You better get the best girlfriend award because as soon as Donnie laid eyes on you, he wrapped you so tightly in a crushing hug that you felt a few ribs pop out of place.

[hyperfix-and-fanfics]

Alastor x reader

Alastor reacting to someone threatening reader.

Requested by: @legendofluck

You had been working at the hotel for quite a while now. Everyone at the hotel enjoyed your presence, as you were an absolute sweetheart.

Alastor, especially, had a soft spot for you. You died near the same time as him. You would often dance with him while listening to jazz and gossip and slander Vox and his insecure whiny bitch boys.

You didn’t have any specific job so you just did what was required around the hotel. Right now, you were checking some guests into the room.

You had just checked the last guest into the last vacant room. It was late and everyone was in bed. You often took the night shift even though you hardly got any customers. You sat by the counter idly, humming to some jazz while reading through a magazine when another dinner walked in. Your eyes darted up and you quickly sat up. “Hello sir! Welcome to the Hazbin hotel, how may I help you?” You asked with a gentle smile.

The man sinner glared at you and stumbled through the door, clearly intoxicated. He was a big burly boar demon with large tusks, sharp yellow eyes, and a long snout. He glared at you, a dark glint on his face. Everything about him screamed "caution" like a label on a pack of cigarettes.

You shifted uncomfortably as he trudged closer.

"S-sir...? Would you like to make a reservation..?" Your voice wavered, flinching as he slammed his fist down on the counter.

"Listen here you l-hic-little whore...You better get me a room or I-hic-I'll bash your head into the counter.." He slurred while grabbing your wrist with a vice grip.

You winced in pain and let out a small hiss. Your eyes watered at the retched smell of whiskey and cigars on his breath.

You looked at the man in fear

"I'm afraid that there aren't any rooms ava-" Before you could finish your sentence, you felt a hand grip your hair sharply and you bit back a yelp.

"I said...Get. Me. A. ROOM! Or I'll bash your pretty little head in and watch as your brains cover the walls..."

You nodded weakly, your whole body trembling as hot tears started to spill. You grabbed the phone and dialed in a room number.

"J-just a moment...sir.." You whispered, calling Alastor's room number, praying that he'd be awake.

Ring ring

Silence

Ring ring

Silence

Ring ring

"Unfortunately, room ### is unavailable, please leave a message at the tone."

Your stomach dropped as you frantically tried to think of a way out of this situation. You felt the hand in your hair tighten and suddenly yank your head back. A scream escaped your lips and then a sharp stinging pain shot through you as the sinner slapped you across the face.

"SHUT UP YOU STUPID BI-" He was cut off when a long dark tendril impaled him through his fat beer belly. Blood splattered into your eyes and you were disoriented. You rubbed the blood from your eyes when suddenly you heard a familiar voice.

"Was he bothering you, my dear?"

You stared at Alastor, stunned, before the whole weight of the situation came crashing down on you like an avalanche. You broke down into sobs and crumpled to the floor.

You shook with terror, your vision swimming with hot tears when something unexpected happened.

Alastor hugged you.

The Radio Demon, Alastor, hugged you.

You buried your face into his shoulder as his claws scratched your back gently.

"There there, he's gone now, your safe..." He cooed while picking you up. "I'll go ask Husker to take over the shift. You need some rest and that bruise on your cheek needs some attention."

You nodded weakly, your eyes red and puffy as your sobs simmered down to whimpers and hiccups. As Alastor walked into his room, he set you down on the bed.

"You stay here, darling. I'll be back momentarily."

And with that he melts away into the shadows. You stare at the ground with a detached look in your eyes. When he returns, his smile is a lot smaller and more strained. He gently raises your chin with two fingers and places an ice pack on your bruised cheek.

"Don't cry, cher" He says while whipping your tears with the pad of his thumb. He slowly takes off your shoes and lays you down into bed with you.

"I will...stay with you for tonight, if it makes you feel safer. It wouldn't be very kind of me to just leave you in such a state." He said while pulling you into his arms. You nuzzled closer into his warm embrace and snaked your arms around his thin waist.

"Goodnight mon cheri"

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day six

prompt: autumn pairing: carlos/oscar word count: 1,5k

It’s stupid really. Just an old tradition from ancient times. Oscar hasn’t participated in the ritual in years. And he was fully planning on not going this year, but he’d forgotten he’s now teammates with Lando and Lando is very persistent.

“But what if you find your soulmate,” Lando says, staring at Oscar with big eyes, like he can’t imagine anything better in the world than finding your soulmate.

“I don’t think I will,” Oscar says. Mainly because he doesn’t believe in soulmates. Mainly because he doesn’t want to.

“Come on, no, you have to go. It’s tradition!” Lando is pulling at his arm now, like he can physically drag Oscar outside and force him to switch into his wolf form. Or, well. He probably could. Oscar has always had a bit of soft spot for Lando. He can already feel his resolve crumbling now.

In an easier world, Lando is his soulmate, he thinks. But they’ve spend time together in their wolf forms, curled up for little afternoon naps, and Oscar had felt nothing aside from the usual fondness. Even outside of the ritual, the tradition, he would know.

The ritual is not much a ritual as it is a yearly returning werewolf tradition. For the first full moon of Autumn, werewolves will go out and search for their soulmates. Something about how the scents are stronger during that particular moon. Oscar’s grandmother had explained it once, how the veil between their world and the afterworld thinned during the fall months, how it was really just your ancestors nudging you in the right direction.

Or something.

Oscar’s never cared for it much. He used to go, with his sister, but mostly because he loved going out for a run on full moon. He never felt the pull of his soulmate. When he got to Europe, he stopped.

But Lando is insisting and Oscar can’t say no to Lando, so here they are. In a forest, in the middle of a goddamn race weekend, out to find their soulmates.

Oscar does spare a fleeting thought to the idea that other drivers might be out there, in their wolf forms, that one of them could be his possible soulmate. But then he shakes that thought and simply enjoys the feeling of the fresh dirt under his paws, the wind whistling through his fur.

He doesn’t get to do this much anymore. Just run for the sake of it. There’s always a race to train for or no one to go with. But now he’s here, Lando’s slightly smaller form by his side, zigzagging between trees, howling into the sky without any abandon.

Occasionally Lando playfully bites at him, and Oscar bites back, and they go rolling through the dense green foliage, their laughs coming out as whuffs and yips.

It’s then, in one of those unguarded moments, that Oscar is hit with the most gorgeous smell he’s ever smelt in his entire life. It’s rich, deep, warm. It reminds him of the Australian sun, of the English countryside, of the gentle breeze in Monte Carlo Harbor. It’s a warm blanket thrown over your shoulders after a long day, it’s a cup of hot chocolate, is a kiss on your temple when you feel like the world is weighing you down.

It's home.

Oscar runs for it without thinking. Leaves Lando behind in a pile of leaves, ignores the disgruntled yip he gets for that, runs as fast as his legs will take him. He needs, he needs, he needs.

The scent is coming closer, engulfing him, like the wolf it belongs to is running towards him, too, and he howls, calls for them. Find me, come find me.

The collide in the middle of a clearing, a big, black wolf, bigger than Lando, bigger than him, slamming into him, sending him tumbling to the ground. They roll together for a while, both desperately trying to get as close as possible, the other wolf scenting his neck, making excited little huffing noises.

Fuck. His soulmate. He’s going to owe Lando the biggest apology known to man. Maybe some flowers. Maybe a lot of flowers.

He always thought this wasn’t something he wanted. But now, here, engulfed in that scent, snout pressed against the soft fur of his soulmate, it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

They calm down eventually, circle each other carefully, observe. The wolf is indeed much bigger than him, and Oscar can see the flash in his eyes now. Not an Alpha, not yet, but powerful nonetheless. Next in line. It sends a thrill down Oscar’s spine.

The wolf cocks his head, towards the tree line, and takes off for a sprint. Oscar, delighted, follows behind.

They run for miles, howling at the moon, until the sun starts peaking over the horizon again and it’s time to make their way back.

There’s one thing Oscar hadn’t considered about the whole finding your soulmate in wolf form thing. One – looking back on it – very crucial thing.

You don’t know who they are until they change back.

And when they do, when he does, it’s like a bucket of cold water gets plunged over Oscar’s head, and he’s taking a step back before he even realizes what he’s doing. “No, no, absolutely not,” he says, holding up his hands, defensively.

The grin he’d been previously sporting slides off of Carlos’s – because it’s fucking Carlos – face. “What is wrong my love?”

My love. Jesus fucking fuck. Fucking hell. How could Oscar get all of this so wrong? This is. It must be a mistake. He hasn’t been out with an Autumn full moon for so long, his nose must’ve gotten confused. There is no way in hell Carlos Sainz is his soulmate.

“Do not ‘my love’ me, oh my god,” Oscar says, taking another step back.

“But-“ Carlos is frowning now. He really is unfairly pretty. He’s only in his boxers after the shift, and so Oscar is confronted with endless planes of naked skin, a truly ridiculous sixpack, and thighs that. Well. Alright. Not thinking about any of that right now.

“No. No this is a mistake. We’re not-“ Soulmates. He can’t even say the word. God. He was right to not want this. He’s no longer sending Lando any flowers. He’s sending him fish. Oscar’s going to be eating salmon on toast during strategy meetings for the next five races minimum.

Except he won’t. Because he loves Lando. Just like the universe apparently seems to think he loves Carlos. Fucking hell. Suddenly he feels like he can’t breathe.

“Hey,” Carlos’s voice, closer than before. Oscar’s vision is swimming. His parents had been soulmates. Happily married for 25 years now, four kids and a house with white picket fence. Oscar tries to picture himself and Carlos, four kids running around, a house with a swing in the backyard. His vision becomes blurrier.

“Come on, breathe,” Carlos says, and suddenly his hands are on Oscar’s arms, and he wants to pull away, but they’re warm, and they’re strong, and Carlos still smells so so fucking good, and so instead he finds himself pitching forward, into that heat, that scent, that warmth. Into the arms of his soulmate.

“There you go,” Carlos says. His hand is on Oscar’s back, slowly drawing patterns. “You’re okay, my love.”

Oscar jerks away again, rips himself out of the bubble of soft and warm and comfortable and glares at Carlos. “Do not,” he warns. “Fucking patronize me. I’m not your pretty little omega who will roll over and show their belly whenever you want them to.”

Carlos blinks. “I don’t expect you to be.”

“Good,” Oscar says, still glaring. Carlos is no longer touching him, and Oscar can’t decide if this is a good or a bad thing. “Why are you. You’re being very calm about this.”

Carlos shrugs, a little wistfully. “I have been looking forward to this day a very long time,” he says.

“Oh,” Oscar says, throat tight. He pictures Carlos going out every year on the Autumn full moon, searching searching searching, never finding anything, until. “You must be disappointed,” he says, smiles a little tightly. All these years, and all Carlos gets is… well. This.

“No,” Carlos says, clear and simple, doesn’t elaborate. Oscar nods, doesn’t really know what to do with that. He isn’t disappointed either, but mostly because he didn’t have any expectations. But still, Carlos can’t be. This can’t be like. What he had been hoping for. Oscar can’t be what he had been hoping for.

He wraps his arms around himself, shivers. The morning air is cold, and now most of the adrenaline has worn off, it’s seeping into his mostly naked frame.

“Here,” Carlos says, holds out a hoodie. Non-descript, no Ferrari logo’s anywhere. But absolutely drenched in Carlos’s scent. It’s not a declaration of love, or a marriage proposal, but it will mean something, accepting this. Wearing it.

Oscar stares at it, long and hard. Thinks about his parents. About Lando, wistfully dreaming about his soulmate. About Carlos, who has been looking forward to this day.

About himself, and all those full moons he didn’t go out because he was alone. Maybe that’s on him. Maybe he just needs to take the plunge, just this once.

He takes the hoodie.

[utterlyotterlyx]

A Fate Inked In Starlight

Eris x Fem!Reader x Azriel

Summary - After crashing into the Autumn Court with no idea who you are, where you are or how you got there, Eris takes it upon himself to hide you and care for you with the help of the Night Court. That is until souls from other walks of life infiltrate Prythian searching for you.

Warnings - mentions of blood, Eris being gentle 🥺, memory loss, kinda arsehole Rhys?x

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Leaves of red and orange peered down at you inquisitively, and the earth was hard and slightly damp beneath you.

You hissed as you moved, a metallic sting coating the inside of your mouth. The world tilted, a dull thumping in your mind swelled behind your eyes and you pinched the bridge of your nose in attempt to centre yourself.

It hadn’t worked.

Looking about, you drank in where you had awoken, soil and an array of foliage welcomed your sight, dark bark held onto browning leaves, some of which floated around where you sat. Light birdsong and the faint chirp of crickets flittered around you with the occasional crunch of dry twigs that snapped under the weight of the mammals that trotted by, not heading much mind to you.

You were clad in some kind of black armour, a second skin that fit you perfectly as it curved around your breasts and hips, the material splitting open in the shape of lightening across your chest where yellow gems and light hummed. Jewelled metal talons were fitted to your fingertips, coated with dry blood that had worked itself into each crevasse it could. You were sure that whatever you looked like was not a pretty sight.

Something had kept you glued to your spot, swaying slightly from the brute force that had clearly been wrecked upon you. From what you had no idea.

From the distance, you heard the beating of hooves against the hard ground, growing louder with each passing moment before a brilliant white stag exploded into the clearing where you were. It was beautiful, those pools of emerald bore into you, there was terror laced behind them, and the stag readied his attack as he lowered his antlers toward you.

“I’m not going to harm you,” you told the creature with an extended hand, an extension of your surrender, “I promise.”

The stag surveyed you, noting the wild hair that had fallen from a once tightly strung braid, the blood that coated your neck and fingers, the bewilderment in your eyes. No, you certainly weren’t a threat.

“I’m not sure how I came to be here. I don’t know where I am,” you continued, as if the stag would be able to answer any of your questions.

The creature relaxed, taking a tentative step forward to sniff the outstretched talons fixed to your fingertips. He huffed and shook his head, one of his hooves tapping against the ground as another sound entered your earshot.

“Dogs,” you said softly, sadness laced in your rough voice that scratched at your throat. “Go. I’ll distract them,” you turned your hand, exposing your palm to him, he rested his snout in it gently, and only for a moment before he bounded away. Leaping over molehills whilst leaving you alone once more.

The barking drew closer and your breath caught in your throat at the obvious number of hounds that approached your position, perhaps mistaking your blood for that of the stags.

They hurtled into the clearing, the hedges and flowers parting for them as they surged through the air and landed in front of you, mouths pulled back and snarling teeth ready to tear you apart. You shuffled back as they circled you, snapping, slobber dripping from their canines causing your heart rate to beat in your ears. Hitting the trunk of a tree, you sighed, realising there were no weapons attached to the leather holsters at your thighs made your current predicament a lot more complicated.

You wouldn’t dream of harming an animal, at least, you thought so.

A flutter of your heart gave way to gentle excitement when you had seen the stag, and even the dogs despite them wanting to turn you into a meal.

A sharp whistle tore their attention from you, pulling them back to the source as he too entered the clearing. His head was tilted to the side and he examined you with a hand resting on the hilt of his sword, assessing if you were a threat or not. Red hair and amber eyes found you, and he approached, splitting his gaze between you and your laboured breathing to the scene around you both.

“Who are you?” His voice was rough but held a stoic calm, the deepness of his words made your hairs stand on edge.

A simple question. Your name. You opened your mouth but nothing came out, you stuttered, eyes wide as nothing came to mind, “I, I don’t know.”

You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Wide doe eyes staring at him in bewilderment, he knew your skin would be soft despite the mud and blood coating your surface. The sharp jaw and hallowed cheeks, full pouted lips and an elegantly pointed nose. Too beautiful for a human or fae.

The confusion etched into every inch of your features made the man relax a little, he knelt before you, his dogs happy with wagging tails brushing against his side, “Do you know where you came from?” By the looks of your armour, the blood coated talons, and the cuts dug into the side of your neck, it was clear to him that you weren’t from Prythian. You looked too advanced for his world.

You shook your head, muttering a faint and weak answer to him.

He hummed, reaching to tuck a strand of your dirty matted hair behind your pointed ear. Fae, he noted. Smiling when you didn’t flinch under his touch, he offered a hand to you, it was calloused and rough, but his pressure was gentle and guiding as he helped you from the ground.

“I’m Eris Vanserra, and you’re in the Autumn Court,” he looked down at you through thick lashes and offered a warm smile.

“Eris,” his name fell from your lips and he nodded in encouragement as you familiarised yourself with the sound of it. Yes, you definitely weren’t from his world, if you were, you’d surely cower from his name and the mention of where you were.

A pressure consumed your feet, and you found one of his hounds sat on them, staring up at you with its panting tongue flopping against the side of its jaw, its tail rustling the leaves beneath it as it wagged happily, “That’s enough, Duke,” Eris scolded the hound, rubbing between his ears in a bid to get him to move, “I’m sorry about him.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind,” you smiled, and he noticed the warmth in your eyes, the molten gold and ocean blue that could have him entranced if he wasn’t careful. “I’m sorry about this,” you motioned the air, the current situation you found yourselves in, “I wish I knew what to say.”

“It’s fine,” he frowned slightly as he peered at the still open flesh on your neck that leaked with every heartbeat, “Let me help you with that.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

Eris smirked, “You’re not asking,” he shrugged as he heading back in the direction from whence he came, adjusting his brown jacket which lay over a cream open collared shirt. You weren’t sure how you didn’t notice it before, the well fit pants and shirt, the adornment of fine rings across his digits. Eris Vanserra was clearly someone of high standing, and you felt stupid for not knowing. The disappointment felt foreign to you.

The male looked back at you expectantly, his well kept fiery red hair tousling over his forehead, freckles visible as the sunlight hit his face. “Thank you,” you followed his steps, Duke trotting alongside you like a personal guard.

Once you had made it back to Fir Manor, Eris’ private residence that was home to him and his hounds alone, he insisted that you bathe, that it would be easier for the healer to assess the damage if she could tell what was or wasn’t your own blood.

You didn’t need telling twice, you thanked Eris for the spare clothes, a sheer deep red dress, before you slipped into the bathroom and peeled off your second skin, paying no mind to the marks that littered your forearms and torso, the marks that covered every inch of your body.

It seemed silly. To be so trusting of someone you’d just met. But something told you that Eris wasn’t a threat to you. Something had allowed you to feel safe with him.

You sighed as the hot water worked to relax your muscles, the rest of the world fading away into blissful nothingness.

Rhys was happy.

Finally happy.

A mate and a babe. A family. No danger for the first time in what felt like a millennia.

Rhys watched them, watched his Nyx swaddled into Feyre’s chest as she painted, humming some lullaby to the dozing babe. Light poured into the room from the domed glass and he let a content sigh pass through his lips from where he leaned against the doorframe. Relishing in the sight for a moment longer before retreating back to his office and closing the door with a soft click.

He wasn’t sure where the rest of them were, Mor would be returning from the human lands soon, Cassian and Azriel were surely training, Nesta was probably nose deep in another book in the library with Amren at her side, and Elain was tucked away with Lucien somewhere revelling in their newly accepted mating bond.

Everything was as it should be.

The papers on his desk were too chaotic for anyone else to understand but him, he knew where each treaty lay in the stack, where each letter from a concerned citizen sat, when Az’s countless reports waited for his eye.

Though, one thing caught his eye that definitely hadn’t been there before he’d gone to check on his mate and child. A folded up rip of parchment, singed at the edges with an aroma of wet grass gripping to it.

It reeked of Autumn, of Eris.

Rhys wasn’t worried that the heir had contacted him. They were planning for a better Autumn once Beron handed over his title, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to hear from the eldest Vanserra at all. Scanning the parchment, Rhys felt his interest grow in the words, the vague message that beckoned him to Fir Manor, telling him that someone had dropped into the forest who Rhys may be interested in meeting.

So, the High Lord of the Night Court stalked through the halls, parchment in hand as the clash of swords and jostling laughter flooded his senses. Then he saw them, his two brothers in their training leathers, wide smiles and bruises that would fade within the hour as they jabbed another with playful words.

“Ah, did you call on Rhys to come and save you, Az? How desperate,” Cassian glimmered, his wings rustling and body keeping guard against Azriel’s oncoming attack.

Rhys stepped between them, holding the parchment in the air between his fingers with a smirk on his lips as Azriel to it from him, scanning the words, “With no memory of where she came from?” Azriel questioned, his shadows curling over his shoulders as though they wished to see what held their masters attention whilst he handed the written words to Cassian who pouted about being left out.

“Do you remember the visitor we had not too long ago?”

Azriel smirked at the memory of the redhead scouring through the caves of Prythian, “Bryce?”

“Yes, Bryce.” Rhys sent a glare to Cassian, no doubt still unhappy at his mates willingness to aid the girl, “She too fell into our world out of nowhere, didn’t she?”

Cassian stopped the thought before it could be shared, “Yes, but Bryce knew who she was and why she came here. It seems this woman doesn’t share that similarity,” he turned the paper over in his hand, like some newfound information was going to be inscribed elsewhere.

From the brief information that Eris had sent to Rhys, the woman who had fell into the Autumn had no idea who she was or where she was let alone how she found herself bleeding in a different world from her own.

“Regardless,” Rhys’ eyes glowed at the hidden message Cassian had tried to convey, that maybe this woman had nothing to do with Bryce and whatever war she was fighting on her shores. Though Cassian did have to admit that it was a coincidence that another soul had floated through into their world. “It needs to be investigated. Azriel, you’ll come with me. Cassian, you’ll stay here.”

The pair knew better than to convince Rhys otherwise, Azriel especially knew better than to refuse and potentially put his home and people in danger.

Another invader had dove into his world, his home, and he’d be damned by the Mother if he let another one trick him again.

Authors Note

Hi my loves!

It’s been a while. I know I’m usually a Bridgerton girly but I’m kinda obsessed with everything SJM right now.

So, here we are. My first Maasverse fic 🤷‍♀️

I am wanting to write a series on this so let me know what you think! I’ve been out of the game for a bit 🤍

[thedovesaredying]

Fire Meet Flesh | Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader | Dragon AU | Part 1

(GoT Screenshot)

Ghost is the last remaining dragon. He, alongside his human rider, Johnny, patrol their kingdom's border and protect its people from those who would do them harm. Just the threat of a fully grown dragon is enough to deter enemy kingdoms from striking, but this leaves Ghost rather lonely. That is until he discovers you.

He's determined to win you over, but even with no competition, can a dragon who has no idea what he's doing earn your heart?

A/N: Fun little AU fic where Ghost and Reader are both dragons! Body-wise the dragons are more like wyverns, with a set of wings and one pair of legs.

Words: 1,430

Warnings: Unedited.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Next

“The hell has gotten into you, Ghost?” Soap groans for the umpteenth time that morning, yanking on the reigns attached to the dragon’s chest only to sigh in exasperation when Ghost simply continues on regardless. Nothing the Scotsman can say will sway the dragon from the task at hand, they’re on a mission of the greatest importance, even if Soap doesn’t know it yet.  

At another round of expletives from the brunette, Ghost shakes his head with a snarl, refusing all attempts at getting him to turn around. They’re deeper into the mountain woodland than they’ve ever travelled before, completely uncharted territory. While most dragons are trained from a mere few days of age to obey their riders, Ghost never had such an education, the only remaining member of the now extinct wild dragons.  

He was captured as a fledgling and locked away as part of the spoils of war. While the rest of his species were slaughtered, and the handful of domestic dragons battled against one another, Ghost was left to rot in a dungeon far too small to contain his rapidly growing body. Brothers turned on brothers, sisters on sisters, and parents were made to kill their own hatchlings in the name of their human kings. His once golden scales faded to a sickly white after years of living in darkness, and his throat, snout and legs were permanently scarred from the chaffing of iron chains. Humans had done nothing but bring pain and suffering to him and his fellow dragons, used their loyalty to their riders against them to bring about the ruin of their species.  

Soap was originally brought before him as another prisoner, someone he was supposed to burn and then consume – the first meal he’d seen in several weeks at that point – but the strange human had been smart enough to convince him they could work together to escape. He only bonded with his Johnny with the intention of leaving him the moment they were free, but it would seem the connection between a dragon and their chosen rider goes much deeper than Ghost had realised at the time.  

Even if he wanted to, Ghost couldn’t get rid of the damn human, they were bound together for life and Ghost wouldn’t be able to have another rider until Soap’s death. If he survived the pain of a lost partner, that is. Begrudging as he was to admit it, he really couldn’t see himself bonding with another, they would either perish together or Ghost would return to the wilds, the last of his kind.  

At least, that was what Ghost had thought, what the silly little humans and their so-called scholars had thought. But Ghost knew the scent of dragon, could pick it up from miles and miles away, and somewhere on this mountainside? There was another dragon.  

For hours he’s forced Soap to circle the same patch of land, breathing in lungful after lungful of the delightful smell. It sends tingles down the entire length of his spine every time he catches it, but he’s not entirely certain why. That isn’t what he’s focusing on, however, rather he is more interested in trying to pinpoint where the smell is coming from. It’s difficult with how dense the trees are, but eventually, he spots a clearing large enough for them to safely land.  

He twists about in the air, drifting just above the tops of the pine trees, before he lowers his legs and drops down onto the grass below, none too gently if Soap’s pained grunt is anything to go by. He tries to send something akin to an apology down their shared bond, but it’s no doubt overshadowed by the rapidly climbing excitement building within him.  

Johnny just huffs at him, swinging his leg over his saddle, before clambering down Ghost’s back to the ground. “Now, what’s got ye so full o’ beans?” the human grumbles, petting at the side of Ghost’s face when he offers it. Unable to verbally explain, he merely whines and starts stepping from foot to foot, entirely restless. The display, unfortunately, just gets Soap to laugh at his enthusiasm.  

Deciding to ignore his rider’s cruel mockery of his eagerness, Ghost is quick to put his snout to the ground and begin sniffing. If he were a dog, his tail would have been wagging at a mile an hour, but he’s a dragon, and dragons compose themselves with much more dignity, and so, Ghost will deny any claims Johnny makes about him practically wriggling with excitement when he catches a trail he can actually follow.  

The scent takes him away from the open grass and further up the mountain, through some of the sparsely growing trees, before he finally sees physical evidence of his target. Where the trees have begun to cluster closer together, several of them have been knocked clean over, torn up roots and all, covered in deep claw-shaped gouges.  

The destruction doesn’t go unnoticed by Soap, who starts trying to deter him from his search, but Ghost has a clear path to follow now, and instead picks up speed. He’s not exactly subtle as he crashes through the short bushes and branches at get in his way, and Johnny certainly isn’t helping the matter with his panicked yelling. Fortunately, he’s not so distracted that he misses the massive, gaping hole in the side of the mountain, screeching to a halt when he realises that’s where the scent is freshest.  

Ancient trees form a thick canopy above the cave’s entrance, hiding it entirely from the air while still creating a space large enough for a dragon to easily enter and exit. It’s the perfect spot for a lair, far superior to the dragon stables Ghost is currently forced to live in, miserably lonely wooden structures that no longer even smell like the dragons they once housed.  

This dark cavern, surrounded by only the sounds of nature – the wind, the birds, the bubbling stream nearby – and smelling strongly of a lair is perhaps the most enticing place Ghost has ever encountered. He could easily see himself choosing to roost here, hunting the grasslands at the base of the mountain and indulging in a long nap or two beside the cool stream in the midday heat.  

Poor Johnny had only just caught up with him, reaching out to rest a hand on his hind leg, only for Ghost to start moving again, much to the man’s disapproval. He pokes his head into the cave, noting that it’s much deeper than he had anticipated, with tall ceilings and even a small pool of water at its centre. It’s dark inside, so much so he almost entirely misses the large form settled at the back of the cave, mistaking it for a large pile of stone.  

He realises perhaps too late that the rocks are moving and is more than a little stunned to find a pair of bright green eyes blinking back at him. As his eyes rapidly adjust to the darkness, he sees the large, powerful form of the dragon who had been resting moments earlier. Your scales are completely black, blending in seamlessly with the shadows, and a large frill juts all the way from your neck to the tip of your tail. Your horns are long and sharp, pointed like the tips of deadly spears, and a deep emerald green is glowing from between your bared teeth, evidence of the flames you’re more than ready to unleash on this unknown dragon.  

It hits him like a bludgeon to the face when he takes in another breath of your scent – you're not just a dragon, you’re a she-dragon. He’s not only found himself a fellow dragon, but perhaps the very last female of his species. He’s so enamoured by this discovery that he completely overlooked the fact that the two of you aren’t alone. A gasp from Johnny is all it takes for your attention to immediately shift to the human currently gaping at you from your own doorway.  

It’s rather embarrassing having to later listen to Soap gripe and groan to Price and Gaz about almost being toasted by you when Ghost had to rather quickly snatch him out of the literal line of fire.  

The two of you might have got off on the wrong wing, but Ghost is certain he can win you over. He’s not exactly sure how his species usually try to court one another, but he’s seen how humans attempt to woo their mates, so surely it can’t be too difficult, right?  

[alphabetboyluvr]

landslides - 001 | goldrush - jjk

part title credit: goldrush - taylor swift

everybody wonders what it would be like to love you... i can't dare to dream about you anymore... it never will be...

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn't ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he's yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being 'you' to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do.

warnings: fluff more than angst, but it's not clean cut - there's also a touch of smut. office worker jk, fuck boy (but kind!) jk, mentions of his workplace escapades, oc is dating mingyu (yay), oc sorta fancies jk (boo), solo masturbation (m), vivid thoughts of shagging (jk is a perv! wow! unlike me to write him as randy bastard!), lots of facetime calls, oc and jk are fundamentally flawed as a pairing, genuine friendship, daddy kink? ig? but like kinda sweet?, jungkook has a complex brain house and you've been banished to his annexe!! he also has a thing for claw clipped hair lol

wordcount: 6.8K

note from holly: so... i dogsat (? idk if thats a word) for my friend last chuseok and this was the result hahahaha. my friends dog (boba <3) is so tiny and small!! but i've always been a big dog girlie so bam was fun to write. i really love this one and have recently found all of my old notes from around that time detailing the rest of the couples lives, so pt. 2 is in progress.

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

Bam notices the storm roll in before you do. His ears twitch, head lifting from its rested perch on his paws.

“What’s up, baby? Hey?” You coo, his sudden shift obviously prompted by something. His snout begins to twitch, too, and his bottom lip shakes as a small growl vibrates from his throat. His eyes are on the window, stalking the clouds as they roll past. “Hey.”

You sit up a little straighter to lean forward and scratch behind his ear. He leans into it, but doesn’t take his eyes away from the sky.

“You see the rain, huh?” You hum, looking between the pup and the window ahead. You can’t place it yet - it’s too far in the distance - but you find yourself coming to sit beside him. He doesn’t lean up against you like he usually does. Just continues to lightly growl.

There’s no threat behind his noises, no malice - he’s just shouting back at the thunder you can’t hear. When you see a bolt of lightning flash in the distance just beyond the city skyline, you know that it won’t be long until Jungkook’s apartment block is drenched in the weather.

It’s just gone midnight when he calls. His face is a little puffy, smile a little lopsided.

“Hey Bammie,” he coos into the camera. You’ve got it angled down to where the pup is resting his head on your knee, peacefully unwinding after his long walk. Bam doesn’t stir at Jungkook’s voice, so he tries again. “Bammie?”

The way he elongates his puppy’s name is sweet - a tone of voice reserved only for his most trusted companion. He sure as hell has never spoken to you like that.

“Sorry, bud,” you say as you lift the camera up to your face. He’s pouting. “I don’t think the vibrations sound the same through the phone.”

“I miss him,” he says not even caring to acknowledge your thought process. “Is he okay? Was he good on his walk?”

“He’s all good,” you smile. “Best boy in the world. None of the other dogs you mentioned were down at the park, so it was just us two.”

He nods into the camera and purses his lips. “They might all be away. Visiting family.” He rolls over in his bed and lets out a yawn. “How’s the apartment? Got everything you need?”

You nod back. “All good. Might have eaten my way through your cheese stash already. I’m gonna shower then head to bed in a minute.”

“Make sure you leave the bathroom door open a little,” he says. “He’ll whine if not.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciate you doing this. He hasn’t been too much work, has he?”

“He’s good as gold,” you say as you switch to the back camera. The view is serene, and Jungkook’s lips instantly settle into a smile. Bam is up on the sofa with you, snuggled against your lap. The skyline twinkles through his window, the reflection of his mood lamp obscuring some of it - but he’s quietly pleased that you’re using it. It’s how he normally winds down, too. Main lights off, galaxy on his ceiling. Must make Bam feel a little more at ease. You go to scratch behind his ear, and he huffs a little, all content and cosy. “Thanks for asking. He’s never too much work. You trained him well.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums. “Could have trained you a little better, though.”

He laughs when you switch the camera back to your face, mouth open, brows knitted together. “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” he grins now but tries to hide it; to restore the stoicism to his face. It doesn’t work. “What did I tell you about the sofas?”

You purse your lips together as if you’re not smiling. He’s got you there, admittedly.

“Look, he’s just so cute!” Despite the fact you’ve turned the camera back onto Bam, Jungkook can tell you’re pouting. “How could I say no?!”

“Easily!” Jungkook laughs. “That’s how he became so well trained! I leave for one night and-”

“Shuuuush,” you laugh, and when the camera switches back to you, Jungkook can’t help but let his smile persist. You look tired, and so does he, but there’s something about the call that has made you forget all about the fact you were planning on going to bed soon. “My swamp now. My rules.”

“My swamp,” he protests, but the look on his face is so saccharine that you can’t take him seriously. He thinks the same could be said for you. “Anyways, it’s late. Go get your shower. If you need more towels, there are some in the cupboard by the boiler. Don’t forget to turn the vent on - it’s the switch next to the light.”

“Alright, will do,” you nod and then yawn. Bam pricks his head up. “Hey baby,” you speak to him. “Did I wake you?”

“Show me him.”

You switch the camera around to where you’re scratching at Bam’s ear. He leans his head into the scratch, thoroughly enjoying it, your long nails far scratchier than Jungkook’s. It’s not the same - Jungkook is far stronger, so is a little rougher which suits Bam just fine. Still, he likes your scratches better than no scratches at all.

Jungkook whines. “I miss him.”

“He misses you, too. Want me to call in the morning?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “We’re up early tomorrow, heading over to Haedong Yonggungsa in the morning. Probably be up before you. Send me pictures though.”

“Will do. Night, buddy.”

“Night gremlin,” he smiles, and then begins to coo. “Night Bammie. Daddy misses you.”

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him in the way that you do when he says that; lips turned upwards at the very corners, dimples pressing into your cheeks, eyes bright.

“Shut up,” he says, but you’re already laughing.

“Daddy.”

“I am his dad!”

“Daddy.”

“Oh my god, fuck off,” he laughs. “Have nightmares, gremlin.”

“Sweet dreams, Daddy.”

“Fuck off!”

You hang up before he can protest your taunts any more, though he does text you one final ‘fuck off,’ and a reminder that you can bolt his front door if it will make you feel safer.

His apartment is in a high-rise, and his neighbourhood is far nicer than yours. You do the bolt up regardless, and think that it’s sweet that he considered your comfort enough to remind you about it.

Bam sits by the sliding door of the bathroom, the tips of his paws just teetering over the line of the door frame. He rests his head on his legs, snout angled towards the hallway. It still makes you feel a little weird. You don’t really want a dog watching you shower, even if he is a dog and has no real understanding of what’s happening - so you turn your back to him and just reassure yourself that Jungkook showers with the door open wide.

It’s a funny thing, to think about your co-worker’s showering habits. Not one that you’ve ever thought to indulge in before - but Jungkook would go ballistic if he heard you refer to him as your ‘co-worker.’ You’re friends. Pretty good ones, at that.

You’re level players at your company; earn the same wage, hold the same rank. There’s not really any competition between the pair of you - you work in different departments - but are often paired together when the two sections merge for joint projects. You make for a good team.

Over the years, you and Jungkook have also learned that you’re a highly capable team when it comes to playing beer pong against your colleagues on Friday nights, and at the mixed-doubles tennis tournament that your company insists on you participating in every year. It’s either that or be on the Christmas Party Planning committee, and you know which you’d rather do.

Thinking about tinsel in August? No, thank you.

There is however one crucial flaw to your partnerships: how you live your lives. How you manage your money.

See, Jungkook is frugal. He makes big investments - his apartment, his cars, games consoles, Bam. Doesn’t spunk his cash away on the small shit. His apartment is in the heart of the city, only a few floors from the very top. He gets a birds-eye view of the world around him. You don’t even want to imagine how much his deposit cost.

Probably more than you have in your savings. You do spunk your cash away - on the small shit, no less. Clothes, cafes, that sort of stuff. Nothing that holds permanence. It frustrates Jungkook to no end. He thinks you could have a better life if you just used your money wisely - but you’re happy in your slightly cramped apartment, happy when the serotonin of a shopping spree boosts your mood, happy when you’re laughing with your friends over coffee and cake.

You wouldn’t be happy if you felt restricted. You think that Jungkook is.

He disagrees. He has enough in the bank to buy whatever he wants. He has financial freedom.

But there’s a difference. You’re both free in your own ways.

It’s for that reason you’d never work as a couple. Would infuriate one another far too much. Everyone who is close to you both knows this; how badly suited you would be. They’ll joke about all of the women in the office trying to get their mitts on Jungkook - even the married ones - but not you.

It’s funny because they’re right. Everybody wants him.

He collects stars from their eyes and accumulates them in his own. The girls blush and giggle about how he looks at them with galaxies, but they don’t realise what a thief he is. Don’t realise he’s stolen their shine, and incorporated it into his own. A spotlight follows him, and you enjoy watching the show unfold with an amused grin whenever a new secretary catches his gaze for the first time.

It’s not intentional. You don’t think Jungkook realises he does it. In fact, he hadn’t realised that it was such a pattern of behaviour until the midnight squalor of a dive bar had you talking about office conquests, and how the photocopier room had seen his bare ass more than it had seen toner changes.

“Shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon,” you’d grinned.

“Firstly, that’s a horrible phrase - and secondly, it takes two to tango. They’re just as much to blame as I am.”

But they’re not. He’s the only repeat offender.

“And anyways,” he had deflected, sinking down the final dregs of his beer. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of saint. Everyone’s fucked a colleague at least once.”

You’d just raised an eyebrow.

“You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Like I said - shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon.”

Now, if he’d have said housemate, you would have folded. Downed your drink. Ordered a repeat round.

Something about a shared space - domestication - really gets you. It’s joint laundry loads, shared dinners, movie nights; grocery shopping, D.I.Y. furniture, arguments about who gets the bigger room. More often than not, it never matters, ‘cause you just end up staying in theirs.

You live alone now. After the third time, you knew better than to let yourself fall into the trap once more.

He learns about your affliction a few months later, and goes on tease you relentlessly.

In fact, he mentions it when he propositions you a few weeks before Chuseok. You had both spent the last couple of holiday periods overworked, slogging through the festivities. For the first time since either of you can remember, your workload has eased up.

You’ve already told him you’re planning on doing sweet, sweet fuck all. You’ve told your family you will be working, because you just want to finally breathe for a while; stay in with a tub of ice cream and your favourite films. Speak to no one. Do nothing.

“I’ve got a favour to ask you,” he had said as he approached your desk before the end of the day. It was a Friday, but you weren’t heading for after-work drinks with the usual suspects like you typically did. You had a date, instead. A third one with the same guy - Mingyu - which felt like a miracle. Even Jungkook was a little shocked that the poor guy wasn’t sick of you.

“Go on,” you had mused as you checked over your to-do list for the following week.

“You gotta promise me something first.”

“Promise you what?”

“That you won’t fall in love with me.”

You’d swatted him away the ruler on your desk, and told him to get his head out of his ass. “Been able to resist your charms this long, Jeon. Give me some credit.”

“It’s only ‘cause you know I’d reject you, you little gremlin.”

“I thought you wanted a favour? Funny way of going about it.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right,” he had conceded with an apologetic smile. “Forgive me.”

“What do you want?”

“How would you feel about potentially staying at mine over Chuseok to look after Bam? My parents want us to head down to Busan for the weekend and see relatives seeing as I’m finally free and know it’s a big ask but I-”

“Oh my God, yes?!” You had smiled so wide Jungkook thought you might fracture your jaw.

You love Bam.

In fact, he might just be your favourite thing about Jungkook.

Occasionally you walk him with Jungkook on the weekends, when you’re both hungover and need to get out of a slump. You’ve grown up with pets, but moving to the city in your early twenties to pursue your career meant apartment living.

You’re a rural girl deep down, and would never want to keep a pet in a high rise.

Jungkook manages it, but he goes home at lunchtime to walk Bam during the winter. In the summer, when it’s too hot, he goes home at lunch regardless, to lounge around with Bam under the air con.

Sometimes, you go with him. Bam is always pleased to see you.

Jungkook lied and said he asked around because he didn’t want to inconvenience you.

Truth is, he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with his baby. He’d never spent a night away from Bam. Hated the idea. Despised it, in fact. He would have just taken Bam with him to Busan, but didn’t think it would be fair to force him on the journey from Seoul.

Over in Busan, when Jungkook hangs up, the conversation isn’t over. It continues in his head.

“Hey, wait…”

“Mhhm?”

“You just… look nice tonight, that’s all.”

He thinks you’d blush. Would tell him to lay off the soju. Accuse him of getting too drunk for a family get-together. He’d let you. Would take the beating of your false accusations, because it would be far easier than admitting he’s not had a single drop.

He thinks of the hug he’ll give Bam when he gets home; how wild his tail will waggle, how he’ll jump all over the place, and how you’ll be giggling. In his mind, you’ll be smiling just as wide as he is.

You’d stay for dinner. Jungkook would order from your favourite place to say thank you. Bam would snuggle up to Jungkook - on the sofa - and you’d be on the other side, stroking his back. He’d be happy. Bam, not Jungkook. But also Jungkook. Hopefully you, too.

When the time would approach for you to go home, you’d offer to help. Rinse out the containers. Hair up in a claw clip, t-shirt off your shoulder like it so often is.

Jungkook doesn’t notice, but his hands begin to trail down his body as he thinks of you. His phone is still on his chest, rising and falling with every beat of his heart. The tips of his fingers stroke against his skin.

He thinks of you laughing with him about something inconsequential. You’d flick water in his direction when he’d make some joke at your expense. It’d all be in good humour.

But then he’d flick some back at you, and water war would break out. Bam would run excitedly between the pair of you, Jungkook chasing you around the kitchen island with wet hands - and you’d do the exact same back. You’d flick water over the counter, tap still running and he’d call you a gremlin.

There’s a smile on his lips as he thinks of his. His hands roam further south. He’s ticking at his abdomen. It’s nice. Feels calm. He likes to engage his senses when he thinks of scenarios like these. Makes it feel more real.

But then he’s thinking of your shirt and the fact it’s white.

And then he’s imagining catching up with you, holding you captive as he angles the tap towards your face. You’ll be shrieking and scrambling to get away, Bam by your feet, Jungkook laughing.

He’d relent, but only enough for you to twist to face him.

Jungkook’s fingers are by his thighs. Stroking. Caressing. He’s avoiding his cock. Knows it’s firm. His index finger spreads to his balls. Teases.

And then he thinks of your body pressed against his torso, your ass to the counter.

You’d both be soaked.

He’d look at your lips. Look in your eyes. Feel your chest against his. He’d swallow hard.

It’s at this point he forgets about Bam in the scenario. It’s just you and him.

His palm rests over the length of his cock. Presses down. His hips roll.

He’d tell you that you’ve made a mess. You’d tell him to clean it up. His heart would be racing. So would yours.

And it’s funny, because his heart actually is. It’s beating so fucking hard in his childhood bedroom, that he thinks his parents must be able to hear it through the walls.

He’s in a far-too-firm single bed, but in his head, he’s with you in his kitchen.

He begins to grip his cock, long fingers wrapping around his shaft. He pulls up. Pushes back down. Says your name. Whines.

He doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Just thinks about you.

Thinks about the way it would feel to sink his lips into yours; the first bite of a forbidden fruit. Thinks about that quick tongue of yours, and if it would be just as quick to find its way into his mouth. Thinks about your manicured nails that Bam loves so much, and how they’d scratch against his scalp instead. Thinks about the way his hips would rock against you, kind of like they are now; pulsing beneath his duvet.

His mind jumps. Skips the foreplay. Doesn’t mean to - but the thoughts are intrusive. Insidious. Insatiable. He can’t help it.

He pushes up into his hand. Pauses. Waits out the feeling. Retracts. Repeats.

In his head, it’s you that he’s pushing into.

The sensation is entirely different, granted, but - fuck - he hasn’t gotten himself off all week and hasn’t had sex in far longer, so it all feels the same to him.

He hasn’t worked out the mental logistics.

His imagination is jumping from the kitchen to his bedroom and then back to the kitchen again. Can’t decide where all of this is happening - and then suddenly, he finds himself railing you in the utility room.

You’re perched above the washer, held in place by him. He can smell the laundry detergent. He’s got spotlights in the room, but they’re turned off. Only lights from the hallway and the city skyline illuminate you.

It’s obscure. The shadows in his head conceal you a little. He’s gripping your waist beneath your shirt. The baby gate which keeps Bam out of the laundry room is closed.

You’re not talking, just fucking, fucking, fucking and -

“Fuck,” he whines, hand is jerking at his cock, heart rate stuttering.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.

Shouldn’t let his mind jump again to a point where you’re fucking naked, and your sodden shirt is on a pile of yet-to-be-done laundry.

But then it jumps again, and one of his towels is on the floor. He’s laying down, back against it. The same position that he’s in now in his childhood bedroom - but he’s thinking about you. The silhouette of your body. The warm curves of your body. The way you bounce on his cock and then-

Oh god, it’s torture the way his cock throbs. Pre-cum leaks from his tip as his speed builds. It’s just a fantasy. Nothing more nothing less. But it’s you. And then he’s thinking about pulling you down for a kiss, and the scent of your perfume and the way you’d moan into his mouth and then his legs are shaking, torso tensing.

He’s taking it too far. Too fucking far. You. Fuck. He can’t. But he doesn’t stop. Just keeps going. Fucks his hand like it’s your pussy.

He’s pulling himself closer, closer, closer, and then he thinks about your voice, and the way you called him Daddy, and he can’t help himself. The pressure that releases in his stomach is catastrophic. Jungkook mewls your name. Calls you baby. Unloads all over himself. White hot cum paints his belly. Seeps into his belly button. Makes a mess of his hand as he coaxes the last few ropes out. It’s been a while since his last nut, but the amount he produces is not fucking normal.

It rolls down the side of his toned torso, Jungkook swallowing harshly as he tries to regulate his breathing. He doesn’t think he can. Doesn’t know what to do with himself. Just kind of lays there. Curses. Knots his brows together. Is frustrated with himself.

You’ve been friends for years. He’s never done anything like this before. He chalks it up to nothing more than him just being a little too horny for his own good. Cleans himself off. Puts his phone on charge. Berates himself for being a piece of shit. Spends a good ten or so minutes staring at the ceiling with an empty head before he falls asleep.

And it’s funny, because when you wake up in the morning, panties damp, the dream you had about Jungkook railing you in his own damn bed, you find yourself looking across the space where he usually sleeps. You reach ouch. Stroke the emptiness. Curse. Spend the rest of the day unbearably horny. It frustrates you. Makes you snappy with Jungkook when he calls.

He asks if you’ve seen Mingyu. You tell him no. He says maybe you should - but makes sure to add, “He’s still not allowed in my apartment.”

“I’m not gonna bring anyone into your space, Jungkook.”

It’s something he knows, and something he trusts you not to do, but he’s still reinforcing boundaries. Making sure that there are still some left. He thinks that if he pushes you closer to someone else, it will sort his brain out. Alleviate him of the guilt that he’s feeling.

But you don’t see Mingyu.

When Jungkook calls again that evening to find you walking Bam alone, he’s pleased. Doesn’t want some guy you’re fucking anywhere near his most prized possession. Bam, that is. Not you. But now that he thinks of it, he finds he doesn’t want Mingyu anywhere near you, either.

“Good day?” You ask, voice a lot lighter than it had been earlier.

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t really smile. “I miss Bammie.”

You pout. “He misses you too. He’s gonna be so excited when you get home.”

The camera switches to the back camera so he can watch Bam bound along the path. He’s on his lead, snout sniffing in all the flowerbeds. It’s dark out, but there are enough lights on the trail for him to be able to see clearly.

“How is he? Eating okay? Going to the bathroom okay?”

“Eating like a champ, and producing shits to confirm that,” you say flatly. It’s definitely your least favourite part of animal ownership - but the reward is so much greater than having to pick up shit off a sidewalk.

“That’s my boy,” Jungkook grins, before turning his focus to you. “You all good? Seemed a little stressed earlier.”

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change when the front camera flips back to you, but he finds his heart racing again. When you turn your head to check the car that’s driving past, he notices your hair is up with a claw clip. Just like it was in his… thoughts about you the night before. He likes how attentive you are - how you checked the source of the noise. You’re protective. Follow your instincts. Thinks you’re the best person he could have asked to look after Bam.

“I’m all good,” you say, and you really are.

“I know it’s not exactly the relaxing Chuseok you were planning-”

“Jungkook, it’s fine,” you smile. “It’s been nice. I like Bammie far more than I like you.”

“Understandable.”

You both smile, and Jungkook begins to babble about his day, telling you stories about his parents, and his weird cousin who never knows when to not say inappropriate things, and the aunt who keeps trying to set him up with all of her friends’ daughters.

“Don’t shit where you eat,” you remind him. “Sounds too close to home. Your auntie would never be out of your business.”

“I know, I know,” he rolls his eyes. “And hey - it’s been, like, a year since I last did that! Cut me some slack, gremlin. Anyways, Mingyu works in our building. You’re basically shitting where you eat.”

“I’m actually… I think I’m gonna cool things off with him.”

“Oh?”

“It’s like not a big deal. I’m just not really feeling it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, you’re right. I’m not,” Jungkook admits, but is sombre as he does so. He remembers how happy you’d seemed after the first few dates. “But I am sorry that you haven’t found the right guy yet, gremlin.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll find the love of my life at the dog park tonight.”

“You are not allowed to use my baby as a flirting tactic.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Too late - I’m already here and there is an absolute DILF. Byeeeee.”

“Wait, no-”

You hang up before he can finish, with a grin on your face to rival a Cheshire cat.

The park is empty. Not a single DILF in sight. You ignore his call when he rings back. Will let him sweat it for a bit.

Jungkook lies awake that night.

Doesn’t do much.

His family are still chatting in the sitting room, but he can’t draw himself away from the sanctuary of his own private space, where your voice is still echoing around the room. He’s starting to understand why you’d been craving your space so much for the holiday period.

He doesn’t wanna have to return to the room with a false smile, and a feeling in the pit of his stomach that could rival the ache of getting the ferry across Busan harbour during monsoon season.

Doesn’t want to form cognitive thoughts that distract him from his mindless reflections of you.

Jungkook’s mind works like a house, and right now he’s in the annexe.

He rarely ever goes in there.

Finds he gets too comfortable and neglects the rest of the house. He’s got a garden to tend to, a kitchen to clean, and beds to make - but why would he leave the annexe when it has everything he needs? He’s comfortable there.

It’s normally reserved for the hyper-fixations he’s trying not to fixate on. He locks them away. Hasn’t really visited since he got hooked on GTA5 when he should have been studying for the University Entrance Exam. It’s still there, and he knows better than to pop it in his games console - but there’s someone else on the couch, now. It’s not just him in his mind-annexe. Someone’s in his space. He daren’t let himself go further into the room.

In fact, he’s desperately trying to jump across to the main house. Get himself out of the thoughts that are gonna consume him. He needs to close that God damn door.

But he watches the figure like a car crash. He’s scared. Unable to look away.

Not for fear of it being a monster hidden in the depths of his mind.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Monsters don’t wear their hair up with butterfly-shaped claw clips, or let the clasp of their necklace trail down their spine like that. Monsters don’t twist their back out of habit just to make it click. Monsters don’t spend their days doodling in a journal like the figure on his couch is doing.

But you do.

An iteration of Bam rests up against Jungkook’s leg in his mind, nose wet, tail lightly wagging, so he puts his hand on his pup’s shoulder for comfort. To support him. To guide him away from the annexe and back into the damn main house.

“C’mon,” he says to Bam, expecting him to leave. Expecting him to follow his commands.

It’s his head, after all - but Bam doesn’t heed his commands. Instead, his claws click against the hardwood floor and towards the figure on Jungkook’s couch. A palm outstretches, and Bam leans into it. Hums in content as a set of dark nails scratch at his ear.

“Hey, baby Bammie,” the figure sings and Jungkook knows that voice. Knows it so well that it’s hardly a surprise it’s embedded into his brain so perfectly.

And he knows.

He knows if he lets the person turn around exactly who it’s gonna be. He knows that he can’t let it happen. He won’t.

Because he and you are friends; nothing more, nothing less. Incompatible at best. A match made in hell; so wrong it could never be right.

Jungkook sits up. Shakes his head. The world in his mind tears away into darkness. He stands and tells himself to get a grip before joining his family. He needs the distraction. Needs to have cognitive thoughts. Can’t let himself get trapped. Can’t let him kid himself into thinking that you’re anything more than his friend.

It’s just cause he’s missing Bam, he reasons. Emotions are getting all mixed up. It’s the affection he feels for his beloved best friend that is getting misplaced onto you - although, if he thinks about it (which he won’t (knows better by this point (knows his mind can’t be trusted to behave))), he’d realise that you are his best friend.

It’s unfair to compare you to Bam because you’re an entirely different species, but there’s no other human he likes better than you.

One more day, and he’ll be home. One more day, and he won’t have to call you when he’s all sleepy and confused over his feelings. One more day, and things will be back to normal. One more measly day.

And then he’ll be reunited with Bam, and he won’t have the stress of family or thinking about the week of work ahead to contend with.

One more day. He can do this.

He will do it. Will barrel home at the speed of lightning; will stop only for red lights and maybe the occasional gas station snack, potato spirals on a pointed wooden skewer and deep-fried chicken slathered in a sauce he can never quite figure out the recipe for.

He’ll think about picking you up some bungeoppang - the ones filled with choux, not red bean paste - because he knows that you adore it so. There have been occasions when you’ve begged him to drive you out of the city to the large gas station out West just so you could have bungeoppang from one specific stall.

The signage is faded, and the prices haven’t changed since 2009, but that’s how you know it’s the good shit. A family recipe batter passed down for generations. The woman who makes it is always the same, and though she never remembers you, you always remember her. Beam so brightly Jungkook thinks he’s going blind whenever you spot her.

It’s only because of that one time you’d showed up with the sole mission to retrieve some of the delicious delicacies, only to be confronted with a handwritten ‘closed today, back tomorrow’ note taped to the menu. You never know when the next family emergency or trip out of town might be for your beloved bungeoppang-making Ajumma.

It’s a little after midday when Jungkook’s car rolls into the gas station. He’ll be home soon.

He tells himself that he’s just doing as he always does. Will get his tornado potato. Wolf it down. Go back for some chicken, maybe some tteok.

He’s stayed out of the annexe today. Doesn’t even think about the doorway because he knows the magnetic pull is far too strong for his cobalt heart.

Had ignored your call this morning - sorry, just saying goodbye to everyone. will see you later. - and had pushed all thoughts of you to the side. He’s even tried to stop thinking about Bam because thoughts of him will inevitably lead to thoughts of you and Jungkook is getting dizzy, quite frankly. It’s like he’s chasing his tail, never knowing when to admit defeat.

At least Bam gets enjoyment out of it when he does it. All Jungkook gets is lingering feelings of remorse.

But as he hits the home straight, a small paper bag full of choux bungeoppang cooling down on his passenger seat, his head starts to clear. He’s fixed the lock on the gate that leads to the annexe. Won’t go down that path.

Jungkook arrives ahead of schedule. Parks his car, and doesn’t tell you he’s arrived. Leaves his bag in the boot of the car, but picks up the pastries from his passenger seat.

Opens the door of his apartment quietly. You don’t hear it. Are too busy dancing around the living room with Bam to some mid-noughties classic.

“Hey,” you laugh a little breathlessly as finally notice him. He’s leaning against the wall. Is wearing his glasses, to make up for the long drive. You think it’s a crying shame he doesn’t wear them at work, too.

“Was I interrupting something?”

“No, not all,” you say. There are deep creases below your eyes, testament to the size of your smile. “Me and baby Bammie-” you reach over and stroke at his sides, a little rough and tumble, but perfectly joyous “- were just burning off a little energy before you got home.”

Jungkook crouches, arms outstretched for Bam. The puppy knocks into Jungkook’s chest, legs all moving slightly out of coordination, excitable whines sounding in his throat. His tail wags so fast you think he’d be able to produce electricity if he really tried.

They match each other’s energy; delirious happiness, content only when in one another’s presence.

“Hey buddy,” he coos. “Daddy’s home. I missed you. Missed me too, hey? C’mere.”

His strong hands stroke Bam’s sides, and you watch how playful they both are with unadulterated awe. It seems absurd how similar the two of them are; man and his best friend.

“He was lost without you,” you confirm.

“It’s that right?” Jungkook pouts as he scratches behind Bam’s ears, cradling his face in his hands. “Did Bammie miss Daddy?”

Bam barks. Yes.

“Hey, I’m sorry, boy. I’m home now, though. Daddy’s home.”

Yes, you think. Yes, he is.

The night dissolves much like Jungkook thought it would. You stay for dinner. Watch crappy entertainment shows, and laugh at how absurd people can be. There’s warmth in his apartment, even though he hasn’t turned the heating on.

“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this,” Jungkook says softly as midnight approaches. Bam sighs. There’s rain on the windows, but the storm doesn’t bother him tonight. Not in the slightest. “Thank you.”

Your head shakes. Smile perseveres. “Happy to do it. You know how much I love Bam.”

Silence wraps around your words like a velvet bow, pulled taut. There’s no double knot, but there needn’t be. It isn’t unravelling any time soon.

“So,” you change topic. “How long do you reckon it will take the new secretary to fall in love with you? I’m thinking maybe four days.”

Jungkook wants to make a joke; tease you about how your mind jumped from how much you love his dog, to the idea of loving him. Not you loving him, granted, but it only took a few electrical signals between neurons for you to get there. Must associate him with love pretty closely.

“Four days? Far too quick.” Jungkook pauses. “You’ve been staying here for four days. Reckon that’s an appropriate amount of time to fall in love with someone?”

He’s being facetious. It’s all in jest and yet you feel your heart beat a little faster. Only for a moment. There’s a mild concern in your features, fearful that he can somehow sense the thoughts you’ve been having; the fantasies, the daydreams, the moments of weakness.

You look at him with eyes he doesn’t recognise. Your lashes are low. Sultry, even. Suggestive. Teasing.

And then, they roll.

“Jeon, you have those poor girls on their knees within a single ‘hello’. Don’t act like you don’t know it, you big old flirt.”

“If Bam wasn’t so peaceful, I’d kick you,” he mumbles, stroking at the dark fur behind his pup’s ear. Bam sighs, content to have him back. There’s a smile on Jungkook’s lips. Both are perfectly content. Both are happy to be with the people they like the most in the world.

“He’d just defend me,” you taunt. There’s a serenity to your jokes, and light-hearted banter that means nothing more, nothing less than just enjoyment of one another’s company. “I’m his favourite now.”

Jungkook laughs. Scratches a little firmer behind Bam’s ear. “You hear that, boy? Gremlin really thinks you’d choose her over me.”

You pull your torso back. Turn your body to face his. Let disbelief wash over your features, as if Jungkook saying shit like that’s a surprise. The movement alerts Bam, his head lifting, the chain links of his collar rattling. He looks over to you, then back to Jungkook.

“He LOVES me.”

“I thought dogs are supposed to take after their owners, though?” Jungkook teases. “And I can’t fuckin’ stand you.”

Your playful shock dissolves into narrowed eyes and a suppressed grin. Bam’s looking at you again, so you cup his dainty face and scratch the underside of his jaw. “You hear that, baby Bammie? How are you so lovely when your Daddy is such an asshole?”

Jungkook’s steady gaze lifts to you from Bam. You’re still cooing at the puppy, scratching beneath his snout, but Jungkook’s back in that damn annexe again. He isn’t smiling - but his eyes are unbelievably soft.

So, so velvety. Like satin, maybe; ribbons tied around ponytails. Brushed cotton, perhaps; his still-warm bedsheets fresh out of the tumble dryer.

Soft, like he imagines your hair would be; released from its claw clip, falling around his face. Soft, like he imagines your lips would be; pressed against his, in the privacy of his bedroom. Soft, like he imagines your laugh would be; soundtracking the living alarm clock that is Jeon Bam, as he bundles onto Jungkook’s bed at just gone six-thirty the following morning.

But then you look up at him, and his stare is hard. Still sparkling, yes - but diamonds, not stars. Concrete speckled. Pennies tossed in an empty well; the steel bolt of his door which keeps the outside world at bay.

Hard, like he imagines your teeth would be; tugging on his bottom lip in the shadows of his bedroom. Hard, like he imagines your nails would be; leaving a trail of ruby red sin down his back. Hard, like he imagines your laboured breaths would be; lips resting ajar against his, your very essence pouring into him as he pushes into you.

Hard. Soft. Confusing and conflicting, and just so unbelievably him.

“What?” you question, bemused by the way his demeanour changed. “‘Daddy’ really gets you, huh?”

“Does fuck all for me,” he says with a little temperance, but there’s a smirk on his lips. His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek.

A few have tried the moniker on him, but it never fit well. Would fall from their lips and crash to his bedroom floor. He’d just kiss them to shut them up.

But you… You have him reconsidering. Have him a little hot beneath his sweats.

It’s not really the idea of being your Daddy, but the concept of being one full-stop that has him adjusting his legs slightly. He’s a man of big investments, after all. No greater investment than starting a life with another person. He likes the idea of it.

Makes him think of you talking with a toddler - I’m not sure, baby, go ask Daddy -and the pitter-patter of feet across the hardwood floors of his apartment. Makes him think how gentle you are with Bam, and how wonderful he knows you’d be with a kid. Makes him think all kinds of shit he’s never let himself indulge in before.

When he goes to bed that evening, and his sheets are seeped in the scent of your perfume, he thinks of it all over again.

Thinks of you.

And realises he can’t think about you without his heart racing, any more.

The door of the annexe in his mind is broken, now. Off its hinges.

And apparently, so is he.

Shit.

part two (x)