#I don't know about this mate...it's too risky

[redr0sewrites]

k. takami nsfw alphabet

🍊 A/n: wanted to do one of these for a long time hehe! also cannot believe this is my first time writing for hawks like,,,,

🍊 Cw: nsfw, smut, marking, phone sex, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, corruption kink, overstimulation

🍊 dividers

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

the first word that comes to mind is definitely clingy. i think that after sex, especially with someone whom he's very close with emotionally, Hawks is really desperate for physical contact and intimacy. his aftercare game is okay, he'd put in the effort, but he prefers to just relax and cuddle with you and deal with any mess in the morning. i also think he'd prefer to be pampered a bit rather than do the pampering, but if you're too tired i do think he'd take care of you too. falls asleep as close as possible to you, often crushing you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

i think on himself, Hawks struggles a lot with choosing a favorite, but overall i think its his hands. they're a lot softer than the rest of him, since he's always wearing gloves, and he loves that they give you so much pleasure. plus, i think he has like larger hands than most, and they're just very pretty (and he has prominent veins + a bit of hair on his knuckles urgrhrhrhr im deceased). on you, i think he's either a tummy or thighs type of guy. he likes resting on your stomach or thighs because his wings make it difficult to sleep on his back, and he also really enjoys how much your thighs and stomach tremble when you're overstimulated or about to cum. likes leaving hickeys there as well.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

honestly he'll cum anywhere. if you're just a hookup Hawks is pretty normal about it, he'll use a condom and call it a day, but if he's in an intimate relationship with someone i think he'd really like cumming inside or on your stomach or chest. seeing his cum dripping on your body kinda soothes those weird primal bird instincts he sometimes gets- i feel like he would occasionally get super possessive about cumming on you. he also really likes how wet you get when he's already cum inside a few times and can hear soft squelches everytime he thrusts into you, thats just like an oddly specific turn on of his.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

definitely masturbates to the thought of you, probably even before you officially get together. i don't think he's a big fan of porn, so Hawks pretty much only gets off using his imagination. has probably sneaked a few photos of you in a low cut shirt or tight shorts to use for... later purposes. the embarrassment and shame he feels about violating your privacy only turns him on more. in addition to this, Hawks has a v complicated relationship with morality and would probably get turned on by nefarious or risky acts like public sex or something of the like, simply because it would probably ruin his public image.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

experienced in hookups, but not in intimacy, if that makes sense. like sure, Hawks has slept with people, but hasn't had many long term or romantic partners. all this to say, he's experienced with fucking, but not so much with truly making love. either way, he's talented in getting you off, but probably not talented with specific kinks or holding eye contact n stuff- at least at first.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

basic missionary, mating press, or 69ing. he likes seeing your face and reactions, especially if you're in a serious relationship. however, he's also a certified munch and loves giving head so he drabbles in that as well.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

honestly it depends on his mood. sometimes i can see Hawks being very silly and taking it slow, probably when you're more comfortable in the relationship or are feeling especially tired or emotional. however when he's stressed or irritated he's more serious and less prone to joking around. also depends on how you respond, and if his silliness lightens the mood and makes you more comfortable, then he's damn well trying his hardest to please you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

amazing at manscaping. pubes are a little darker than the rest of his hair, probably curl too. he trims but doesn't shave completely, and has a really nice happy trail. probably spends a lot of time on self care,, in addition to this, he probably wouldn't care on whether or not his partner shaves, but would probably have a preference for more hair rather than none.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

at first Hawks isn't great with intimacy but gets better as the relationship progresses. at the start he's mildly awkward and moreso pursuing pleasure than emotional connections, but once he's sure that the relationship is serious than he himself is a lot more romantic. if he truly cares for you than you best believe he's going all out- from rose petals to candlelight, he wants you to know that he cares. i also think he'd be very sweet and considerate during the deed, like even at the start of a relationship he will always make sure he isn't hurting you or making you feel uncomfortable in any way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

does it a lot. he has a pretty high libido, and he can't be around you all the time, and while he wishes that he could sleep with you whenever he's feeling horny it can't be helped that some nights are spent with him fucking into his fist instead. like ive said before, he's not a big fan of porn and would prefer to jack off to you or photos of you. HUUGEEE on phone sex and mutual masturbation, especially when he's away on hero business, and its so hot to hear him rasping and whimpering into the speaker about how much he misses you and wishes you were there.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

starting off strong, definitely marking. loves to mark you and be marked himself. wears hickeys with pride. also big on overstim, both giving and receiving. its just super hot to him to watch you squirm, but also likes to be fucked dumb as well. mild corruption kink, especially if you're super inexperienced, because most of the time he's probably the more experienced person in any sexual relationship. likes flustering you a lot. some more include praise, especially receiving, and also sensory play, both giving and receiving

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

prefers the bedroom, but would also not mind public sex or perhaps in a cramped space. likes the risk, but it's so inconvenient, especially with his wings. also a fan of bath or hot tub sex

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

lots of things. gets really horny around spring, again, bird instincts, but most of the time it's just you simply existing that gets him going. really likes seeing you in revealing clothes, especially when you're intentionally trying to tease him. big fan of thigh highs or garters, and crop tops that show your stomach. also when you touch his wings or feathers. that is probably the quickest way to turn him on.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i'd say hawks is pretty experimental, but wouldn't want to do anything that he thinks would hurt you too much or make you uncomfortable. i also think he'd be ehh in terms of wax play or fire play for obvious reasons unless you really truly wanted to try it out, but other than that i think he's down for anything you would like to try.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

giver giver giver. as much as he loves receiving, Hawks fucking LOVES to give head, he's absolutely a certified munch and whether or not you have a pussy or dick he's sucking and slurping like its his last meal. loves how you taste, loves when you grind your hips against his face and chin, loves when you cum in his mouth, loves when your thighs squeeze his head. also fucking loves facesitting. please just let him drown between your thighs...

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

honestly his pace varies. when Hawks is pissed off he tends to be a lot rougher and filthier, but he also has a really soft n gentle side too. it depends a lot on how he's feeling and how you're feeling in the moment. i do think he has a lot of stress, especially prewar!Hawks, and so that definitely leads to a lot of rough sex. i also think he likes savoring the moment though, and obviously he loves you a lot so he wouldn't want to hurt you. sure, people say he goes too fast for his own good, but he's more than willing to slow down for you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

loves them. any and every chance he gets, Hawks is more than willing to fuck you. overall the mixture of both risk and passion is very appealing to him, and since he's often super busy, he appreciates any sex you can hve that fits your respective schedules. fifteen minutes before an important meeting? sure, he's got time to spare- he'll sit you on his desk and eat you out/suck you off until your seeing stars with a few minutes to spare.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

definitely big on risk, and is willing to try anything you want to try. however, a lot of his preferences depend on you rather than himself, and so he's also fine with being pretty vanilla in the bedroom as well. really likes teasing you in public or inconvenient places tho,,, half the hero community has caught you both making out at least once or twice

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

out of all the Bnha men he probably has the highest stamina. not only can he last a while, but he doesn't take long to recover after an orgasm. and, in addition to this, more often than not he's focused much more on his partners pleasure than his own so i really see him being determined to make you cum at least three times, if not more. overall he's got great stamina and he's very focused on your pleasure soo,,, A+ partner

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

probably never really thought about using toys on himself, at least until he started sleeping with you. you introduce him to a bullet vibrator and he cums so many times he's shaking n whimpering. when it comes to you, he loves using toys on you to tease you, but prefers to actually get you off using his own body. doesn't mean he won't use them, but prefers to make you cum himself. has a trusty pair of handcuffs that he uses a lot though

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

ohhh all the time. teases you both in public and in private, sometimes when he's not even horny and just for his own enjoyment. teases you a lot in the bedroom as well, and just. loves seeing you squirm. teases you a lot with his feathers too- like you'll be taking a casual stroll when all of a sudden a slim red feather is sliding under your shirt to rest against your chest,,,, how odd! i also think Hawks would tease you a lot unintentionally? like he's rubbing your thigh while he's driving or pulling you into a kiss by the neck and then wondering why you get so hot n bothered. his hand placement is peak, he's incredibly flirtatious even when he doesn't mean to be, and overall he's just. a huge tease. he's a total hypocrite though because Hawks gets soo pouty when you tease him. he's like miraculously surprisingly easy to fluster simply because he's not used to being the one on the receiving end.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

when he's more dominant i don't think he's as vocal as when he's submissive. when he's domming i think you'll hear a lot of groans and dirty talk but overall he's relatively quiet, however when he's subbing he moans and whimpers a lot. i also think he talks a lot during sex, like he babbles about how hot you are and how good he feels even when he's more dominant

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

his wings/feathers + back are very sensitive and a huge erogenous zone ! they're also very expressive and if you watch his wings a lot, it's easy to tell when he's worked up or horny simply because of little tells he has. however they can also be ticklish sometimes, so occasionally during sex he gets a little giggly because the its both pleasurable but also. hes ticklish.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's big, and very pretty. i'd say at least 7 inches, maybe 7.5 when he's hard. he's got a few prominent veins on the underside of his cock, and a very nice happy trail too. his tip is also a very nice shade of pinky brown.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

his sex drive is pretty high, not insanely so but to the point where he tries to sleep with you at least once a week, but if you're sex drive is very low he's fine with compromising. if you're sex drive is higher than his though? you're absolutely blessed because he's more than willing to fuck wherever and whenever. a personal hc of mine is that Hawks is like especially horny during the spring... bird mating season.... so be prepared. i just think its kinda funny

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

honestly it depends on how quickly you fall asleep. if you want to clean up before going to sleep and get some aftercare done, then sure he'll stay up, but if you want to stay in bed and cuddle and leave the mess till the morning... well he's out like a light.

i love these type of hcs SO much, i have another set for shigaraki and touya on the way.... anywyss ! hope u enjoyed!! PLS SEND IN BNHA REQS RAHH

[gremlingottoosilly]

how would monster konig/price act with a plus size partner? would they like her better? i think they would like her a bit more then a straight sized mate since their plus size mate would have a perfect body to load with eggs/babies!!

- 🍌 anon

(banananon) :))

(I'm going with monster Price for this one because I have too many Konig asks, I need a break) His whole deal is feeding you so his inner bear would be pleased with his mate being soft and sated! Not to the point of a fetish, he won't make you eat if you don't want to(well, I mean, he won't make you eat more than one portion, you're still not getting hungry on his watch), but he still loves to see your body changing just a little bit, meaning that he is a good owner and you're finally healthy enough to take his cubs without breaking. Humans are fragile, after all - he doesn't forget to tell you this, every time he squeezes your waist to pound his fat dick into your pussy, he will whisper just how easy it would be for him to shift and tear you apart - and how he won't do it as long as you're a good, dumb human for him. He would love a chubby partner, the more darling he has, the happier Price is! He will snuggle with you in your nest, happy that all the blankets he prepared are getting well used. He never believed in having a mate before, despite wanting to dump his cum into something fruitful every time he got into a mating season - but he sees your soft arm rolls, your chubby cheeks, your belly that would make a perfect pillow when he is too tired being a monster bear he is...he snatched you right away, not caring about any other pets he might have chosen. You are getting bred right away, even before he got you a proper nest( Price knows that his life is risky, that he doesn't want to get his boys to breed you before him - as much as he considers them his pack - and he doesn't waste time for anything nice. You're still scared and dizzy after being dumped on a bed in this weird military facility filed with broody monsters, and how he squeezes your soft belly and whispers how he is going to put cubs in you - how good of a many you'll make, already so soft and ready for his seed.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine falls in love with his pretty neighbor.

Genre: Fluff 🍰

Warnings: swearing, blood, def a cliché mess but in a good way (hopefully)

~ breaking my T.S title streak for this one! inspired by the song Too Sweet by Hozier ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

It truly was some cruel sick joke that the sweetest looking girl he had ever seen had moved into the house across from his.

Tangerine honestly couldn't remember the last time he let himself have anything truly good in his life, since he knows everything he touches burns right in front of him. Which meant he made the decision that he can't afford that with you—so he's stayed as far away from you as possible.

You, on the other hand, have never wanted to become friends with anyone so much as you did with your two, mostly quiet, neighbors in the house in front of yours.

You'd overheard some neighborly gossip that they weren't to be messed with—gangsters or something like that. You didn't really believe those rumors considering you'd seen one of them, the one with dark skin and platinum hair, feeding the birds that rest on their porch. 

What kind of dangerous gangster would care about birds?

So, that's why, one month into having moved in, you stand in front of their door with a plate of miniature strawberry shortcakes displayed neatly in a pink tray. It feels corny and stupid when no one answers the door for a moment. You raise your hand to knock again when eventually the door opens and you look up, making eye contact with eyes that are the prettiest shade of blue you've ever seen.       

The man is dressed in a white button-up, half of it unbuttoned in his trousers and his brown hair is curled naturally, the ends sticking up messily as he looks you over. He tucks something behind him, clearing his throat awkwardly as his gaze falls to the tray in your hands. "Pastries," he says, his voice velvety and his British accent thick. 

You hold the tray out closer to him. "Shortcakes. I made them myself," you say with a smile and the man just looks annoyed—his lips twitching as he looks you over again, taking in your apron and the cream that's smeared on your cheeks. 

"It's late," he points out calmly, "much too late for afternoon tea."

He's right. It is. It's almost seven—you'd just taken more time with the cakes than you'd wanted. You feel embarrassed now and lower the tray.

"Oh," you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd had a whole introduction plan and now you're flustered. "You could use them as a late-night snack—" you pause, trying to explain, "Most nights, I see that your lights are on when I wake up at around three or four am for water and–well if you already can't sleep, a sweet treat wouldn't do you any harm?"

You feel like the creepiest stalker as the man's eyes widen. 

"Sorry, this was a stupid," you say and turn around, preparing to walk away when the man's voice interrupts your thoughts. 

"I'm allergic to strawberries," he says, "but my brother isn't. He'd love them. Here, I'll take 'em." He takes the tray from you as you turn back around and he looks down at the cakes he's now holding. Tangerine can tell you clearly spent time on them and he has to fight himself not to smile. 

"Thank you—"

"Y/n," you say your name much too quickly, itching for connection to this mystery man. 

"Thank you, Y/n."

You don't even hesitate when you ask, "And you are?"

Tangerine hesitates. He can't tell you his real name. Speaking to you like this, out in the open, is already risky. He sniffs nonchalantly and uses an excuse, one he hopes you won't question too much. "My friends call me Tangerine."

You laugh and the sound is so beautiful it's unfair. "Tangerine? What? Is that some shitty drunken inside joke with your mates at Uni?" you guess, pushing down the curiosity to jokingly ask if you using his nickname makes you his friend. It's too soon for questions like that.

He shrugs. "Mm, something like that," he says and he doesn't elaborate further. You wonder if you'll be worthy of his real name one of these days, but for now, this feels like some progress. You smile at him, rocking on your heels for a moment and then you look back across the street at your house. 

"Well, Tangerine, it was lovely meeting you but I should—" you point behind you with a smile. "I'll see you around and hopefully I can meet your brother! Enjoy the shortcakes!" you wave and skip down the steps as Tangerine watches you, his stomach filled with unfamiliar, normally dormant, butterflies.  

He chuckles, biting his cheek, and then walks back inside. He untucks his gun from his trousers and slides it into the designated drawer of the entrance table, shaking his head with a small smile as he remembers your wide grin. He returns to the living room and puts the tray next to Lemon's puzzle. 

"Someone important?" Lemon asks and then he looks up and sees the cakes. His smile widens and he doesn't hesitate to take one. "Ooo, pastries," he exclaims and practically stuffs one in his mouth, humming with joy. 

"Nah, just our neighbor," Tangerine says and runs a hand in his hair, leaning against the table and mindlessly playing with one of the puzzle pieces as he remembers how pretty you looked. 

Lemon cocks an eyebrow and speaks with his mouth full. "Which one?"

Tangerine shrugs. "Does it matter?" 

Lemon rolls his eyes. "Yer bein' weird as fuck. It was that cute bird from across the street, wasn't it? The one ya keep starin' at when you can see 'er from 'er window—like some creep—"

"Oh, piss off," Tangerine grunts, lowering his head to hide how pink his cheeks have turned.

Lemon hums, continuing to eat the pastries you'd made them, and grins. He knows how his brother is; always too damn proud to admit he has any feelings other than nonchalance and disdain. But he's seen how Tangerine is smitten with you without even an interaction and he can't wait to see where this goes. 

"Want one?" Lemon asks as he motions toward the tray.

"No. I'm allergic to strawberries."

Lemon laughs. "Ya aren't allergic to strawberries, you numpty."

Tangerine stands straighter, eyeing the tray of what looks like really delicious shortcakes for a moment until his jaw clenches and he turns around, his thumbs hooking in his pockets. "I am now," he says bluntly.

* * *

Lemon has gone inside first as Tangerine hangs behind, making sure the garage is fully secured. He's exhausted and there are dark bags under his eyes. Usually, he'll take the inside entrance into the house, but this morning he needs some fresh air after that mission. He walks outside and looks up at the dusty pink sky. It's 4:30 am in the morning—no sane person would be up. 

"Mr. Tangerine!" 

He startles at his name, holding his hands behind him—knowing they're still covered in blood. He looks up and his eyes widen when he sees you.

You're walking across the street to meet him, tightening your ponytail as your grin widens. You don't look sleepy at all. "Good morning," you say and look him over, "Weird running attire," you joke, mentioning the navy blue suit he's wearing.

"Running?" he echoes. 

You drop your arms to your sides, looking him over with a small, amused, frown. "Oh– I just assumed—most people, including myself, are only up at this hour for a morning run. What are you doing?" 

You ask the question so innocently that Tangerine doesn't know how to answer. 

He can't exactly tell you what he's been doing. How the truth is he's been out all night killing for money. He pushes the image of your disappointed and scared look from his mind and lies. "Oh, I like seeing the sunrise," he says, sounding nonchalant, pushing his hands in his pockets quickly so you don't see the dried, crimson, mess. 

Hopefully, you'll leave him alone soon. 

Unluckily for him, you don't leave him alone. "Oh! I love watching the sunrise!" you say, smiling as you point behind you, adjusting your sneakers. "We should go see it someday," you offer kindly, your tone a more sincere nonchalance than he was, "no pressure or anything." 

Tangerine is speechless. He blinks at you, his sharp blue eyes scanning you up and down. You must be kidding. No sensible soul would invite a stranger to do something seemingly so intimate. You shouldn't be inviting him like this, you don't know him. He's dangerous. 

"You don't know me, why would you want to do that?" he asks bluntly. 

You shrug, still looking as nonchalant as ever. "Can't know you if you shut me out," you say, smiling, as you return his bluntness. When he doesn't answer, you just send him a small wave, saying your goodbyes as you begin your run. 

Tangerine is tempted to run with you now. To protect you. He shakes that thought. 

Lemon interrogates him the moment he comes back inside. "Flirtin' with her now, Tan?"

"You're gettin' on my fuckin' tits," Tangerine grunts, your offer still swarming his mind. Lemon laughs. 

Tangerine doesn't have much peace until he eventually, after you deliver more and more pastries as an excuse to talk to him, accepts.

He doesn't sleep a wink that night. He's a nervous wreck as he plays every scenario in his mind and spends hours in the kitchen just to see your smile when he walks out of his house with a covered basket as the morning sun prepares to peak from the clouds.

Your eyes widen and you rush over, your pretty sundress hugging you in ways that make him lose his mind even more. 

"You made something?" you ask, grasping at his arm. Tangerine hums, guiding you to his car. 

"I know a spot," he whispers, hiding his smile. The drive is silent but comfortable and when he drives you to a park, he walks with you up the hill. You watch with amusement as he fusses over the picnic cloth and then opens his basket and pulls out a bowl of strawberries drizzled with frozen chocolate and a small bowl of whipped cream. You both sit down and you look at him, slightly confused. 

"As a thank you for the shortcakes."

"I thought you were allergic to strawberries."

You both say in unison and you laugh. Tangerine's cheeks turn pink and he runs a hand in his hair, answering you, "I- I lied. I just, I was nervous," he says as he picks up a strawberry and outstretches his hand. You smile and look at the cream.

"You whipped this yourself?"

He nods. "The store-bought cream is always disgustingly sweet," he shakes his head and dips the strawberry in the cream before he turns to you again, your knees almost touching as you lean in. You refuse to take the fruit and instead, you part your lips and stare at him, your heart hammering. 

You wonder if this is too forward, but Tangerine brings the strawberry to your lips. It takes bittersweet, like how you assume he would taste, the dark chocolate mixes with the whipped cream, and some falls from your lips. He doesn't say anything as he catches the drip with his thumb, looking at you intensely as his heart beats loudly in his ears. 

"Were my shortcakes too sweet for you?" you ask in a murmur, his hand not leaving your face. 

Tangerine knows he shouldn't. He knows he'll hate himself after but nothing sounds more appealing than kissing you now—so he does.

He can taste the chocolate on your lips as his hands cup lightly around your throat, his touch light. Just enough of a warning as to who he truly is. You gasp, not minding at all, as you kiss him back.

As complicated as you know it will be, this feels so right. 

Tangerine's hand finds your waist and, bunching up your dress a little in the process, he pulls you in closer. He takes a breath, looking down at you as he ignores the screaming in his head. "No," he whispers, knowing damn well he'd held himself back from tasting them, "No, they weren't too sweet for me."

It doesn't matter because, in the end, he isn't talking about the shortcakes.

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @longlivedelusion, @thewinterv

[babybearnation]

cause i've got a soft spot (i've got it for you)

⎇paul aron x m!team boss!reader - you don't play favourites, but with paul... (smau) ⎇author's note: my first ever non-texts post and AHHH this is so nerve-wracking omd!! pls be nice to me PLS ⎇content warnings: team boss/racer relationship, hate comments, suggestive content, implied homophobia, arguing

Paul sighs, wiping his hands on his pants for the umpteenth time. His leg bounces restlessly and he's rather glad he got here after Arthur had already gone into the room to meet Y/n otherwise he's sure he would've annoyed his future teammate before the season could even start.

Paul's about to stand up and start pacing when the door clicks and swings open, Arthur walking out first. Paul watches as Arthur and Y/n exchange farewells before standing up and smiling when Y/n beckons him into the room.

"Paul, hi. Come on in." Y/n says. Paul crosses to the room, smiling as he enters the vast area. He's vaguely aware of the many thoughts he's having about Y/n and how young he is and how insanely attractive he is, but he's pushing them all down.

Professionalism, Paul, come on!

"So, welcome to the team." Y/n says as he sits down, folding his hands atop the desk as he smiles warmly at Paul. Paul finds himself flushing lightly, warmth lighting up his body.

"It's great to be here. Thank you for giving me this opportunity." Paul says, his words feeling thick and heavy on his tongue. Thank you doesn't feel good enough, but his English is clunky and he doesn't want to make a fool out of himself.

"Your post-season test with Alpine showed fantastic potential and we have the finances to invest in more... how shall I put this?" Y/n trails off, tapping his chin before shrugging. "More risky decisions, shall we say."

"Right." Paul says, an embarrassment flushing throughout his system. Do they really think he's gonna be that bad?

"Not that that's a reflection on you or Arthur, of course. I have my confidence firmly placed in both of your hands. But, well, you know how fans and higher ups can be." Y/n says, laughing softly. Paul latches onto the sound instantly, something flickering to life in his gut.

"I totally understand what you mean. Thank you for your confidence. I hope my performance can please you, Mr. Y/l/n." Paul says, all the drilled-in media training entwining with the words that drip from his tongue.

"Please, Paul, call me Y/n. I don't want this to feel like a job to you, but rather a family." Y/n smiles again and Paul finds himself naturally smiling back, all his previous nerves and professionalism replaced with a twisted sense of desire. "Now, about this family thing. Let's go get some lunch with the rest of the staff, shall we? I'm quite famished."

Paul thinks he might like it here.

liked by arthur_leclerc, cbaceracing, and 62,880 others

paularon_ Thank you to @/cbaceracing for signing me on as one of their 2025 drivers. I hope everyone is excited to see me on the grid next year. (And thank you @/aronralf for the silly cake).

comments

user1 let's go, paul on the f1 gridddddd

cbaceracing It's gotta be a good year when you've got Paul Aron on your team, huh @/hitechgp 😉 ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ liked by paularon_ hitechgp Can't disagree with that, can we? 😉 liked by paularon_

user2 This is fucking insane, I'm so happy right now.

arthur_leclerc I look forward to racing with you next year, mate. liked by paularon_

user3 Arthur's gonna fucking run your shit into the dirt. You're awful. user1 ew, who asked you? user2 Jealousy gets you nowhere, mate ����

aronralf That cake was delicious, I think we can both agree. liked by paularon_ paularon_ Remind me who ate most of it again?

Y/n sighs, pacing back and forth as he drags his fingers through his hair. He probably shouldn't dishevel his appearance too much lest he come off as unprofessional or unattractive, but it's been his bad habit for years, so bad habit it shall remain.

His fingers drift down to his tie and he's just about to tug it loose and retie it when there's a knock at the door. He crosses over instantly, tugging it open with far too much excitement, smiling breathlessly when he spots Paul on the other side.

"Hello, come on in." Y/n says, stepping to one side to let Paul through. Paul greets him softly and enters the room, sitting in the chair closest to Y/n's one. Y/n's heart most resolutely does not flutter.

"What's happening? Is everything alright? You look like a mess, to be honest." Paul says. Y/n huffs out a laugh as he leans against the desk, gazing down at Paul.

"Something is plaguing me." Y/n says, wincing when a headache decides to form behind his eyelids. Why right now? When he looks at Paul again, the younger man has a troubled expression on his face.

"Is everything okay with the team?" Paul asks. Y/n wants to laugh. Paul's devotion to the team is already showing and Y/n hasn't even had to do anything to make it happen! It's adorable, it really is.

"Yes, yes, all good. It's more myself." Y/n says. The headache throbs and he reaches over the desk, snatching up his water bottle and drinking a greedy mouthful. A stray droplet trickles down his cheek and he wipes it away with a calculated finger.

"So what's wrong? Is there any way I can help? I mean... you must've called me here for a reason, right?" Paul says, as observant as ever. Y/n smiles softly at him.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me." Y/n says, puffing his chest out in triumph. He did it, he said it, now hopefully he's not going to get rejected.

"I- is that not inappropriate? Won't people claim you favour me?" Paul sputters, his cheeks a delicate pink.

"I've held feelings for you for a while. No favouring claims have come out, have they?" Y/n says. He's practically baring the very depths of his soul to Paul right now, an embarrassing hue of red surely filling his face and trickling down his neck.

"That's true..." Paul says, looking away from Y/n's gaze. Y/n smiles and leans down, capturing one of Paul's hands in his own.

"You can say no. I won't react negatively, I promise." Y/n says. Paul nods stiltedly before smiling up at him.

"I'd love to go on a date with you, Y/n."

Every single member of staff who currently fill both Paul and Arthur's garages come pouring out as Paul crosses the line to start his final lap, Arthur hot on his tail. They cram along the fences and the walls around CB Ace Racing's pitbox as Y/n smiles at the screens in front of him.

A 1-2 finish. Every team boss's dream. Every team's dream. Whilst Arthur would surely wish he had finished first, Y/n knew he wouldn't hold that grudge and would celebrate just as hard, if not harder, than Paul would tonight.

One last corner. One last straight. One last bit.

"Paul Aron, you are the winner of the Silverstone Grand Prix!" Cheers and thunderous applause rise up throughout the pitlane as CB Ace staff pound the fences and hoot and holler in excitement over their hard work finally paying off. Paul's white and purple car continues on around the circuit as his radio crackles to life.

"We did it! I did it for you, CB Ace Racing! I did it for you, Callum! I did it for you, Y/n!" You smile as Paul thanks everyone, the tears that are probably soaking into the material of his balaclava audible through his voice.

"You did it, Paul. You did it." Y/n says, proud and triumphant. He listens to Arthur's radio and congratulates him as well before pulling his headphones off and slowly following the rest of his team over to parc fermé.

As he goes, Y/n thinks to himself about how big this was for them. A rookie team. Two rookie drivers. Hundreds of points and a handful of podiums under their belt. And now a win. It was a dream come true as well as a big fuck you to everyone who had doubted them.

Y/n lines up front and centre as he watches Paul pull into parc fermé, the white and purple of his car sparkling and practically iridescent under the British sun. Arthur's car comes next but Y/n isn't able to stare for long, Paul clambering out of his car seconds later.

Paul stands atop his car and cheers, all the mechanics and staff around Y/n cheering along too. Y/n claps, slowly and patiently, as he waits for Paul to get weighed. Before long, his helmet has been discarded and he starts running over.

Straight to Y/n.

"I did it!" Paul says as he all but collapses in Y/n's arms. Y/n holds him close, offering his hand to Arthur when the other man appears moments later. He rolls his eyes fondly at Paul and Y/n before moving over to congratulate the rest of the staff.

The interviews and the cool down room waiting period passed so quickly Y/n was almost sure he imagined them. Before long, however, he stands in a crowd of thousands, eyes fixed on his two drivers. On his boyfriend. On his staff. On the legacy they've created in only their first year. And there's still more to come.

As the Estonian and British national anthems fill the Silverstone circuit in rapid succession, Y/n feels ecstatic.

Paul knocks against the doorframe. Arthur's driver's room door is open, but Paul doesn't want to just barge in without getting some sort of consent.

"Paul! Come on in." Arthur says, looking up from his phone with a soft smile. Paul smiles in return and slowly enters the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Can we talk?"

"Of course." Arthur says, locking his phone and placing it to one side, all his attention fixed solely on Paul. It's a bit daunting. "What is up?"

"You know me and Y/n are dating right?" Paul says, watching as Arthur's eyes widen almost comically in shock. "That's a no then."

"No clue." Arthur clarifies, laughing softly. A small amount of tension bleeds from the atmosphere at that and Paul finds himself relaxing somewhat.

"Well we are and um, do you think it seems like he favours me?" Paul asks, wringing his hands together. The question was out there now, simmering in the air between them. Arthur hmm's, causing Paul to look up and meet his eyes.

"No, not at all. You two seem closer, but I've never felt like you were prioritised over me." Arthur says, shrugging with a wonky expression on his face.

"Oh thank god. I was so worried someone would think that was the case. People are already getting suspicious about us on Twitter." Paul says, all the tension seeping from his shoulders, allowing him to practically melt against the wall behind him.

"Ah, Twitter rumours. The place of all good F1 commentary." Arthur snarks, both of them laughing at the idiocy of his words.

"That's an understatement."

liked by paularon_, arthur_leclerc and 20,072 others

y/n.cbace Sorry everyone, but this one's mine. (Bonus Arthur with Paul at the end I guess? 🙄)

tagged paularon_, arthur_leclerc

comments

paularon_ Love you, kallikene 🤍 liked by y/n.cbace y/n.cbace Love you more 😘

arthur_leclerc What's that supposed to mean 😐 liked by y/n.cbace y/n.cbace Nothingggg! I love you equally, just in different ways! arthur_leclerc Uh-huh, sure 😒 liked by y/n.cbace

neonpinkleds I TOLD Y'ALL MOTHERFUCKERS !!!!

user3 Eugh, the only reason you got the seat is because you're fucking the team principal. user1 Just say you're jealous you're not getting your dick wet🙄 liked by y/n.cbace

© all rights to babybearnation 2024.

[a-writer]

Dancing around - Azriel x reader

I'll never get over the fact that Nesta and Az danced together in Hewn City which means that it is canon that Az actually knows how to dance so... here goes nothing:) Also took some things from scenes in ACOSF and changed it up a bit!:) enjoy<3

Warnings: no actual smut but a lot of smutty talking and thoughts.

"You don't have to do anything you don't wish to. But Elain mentioned that you have particular skill on the dance floor. Skill that once won you the hand of a duke in a single waltz." Rhys said as his eyes fixed upon Nesta.

Yes, sending her to dance with Eris was risky. But they didn't really have more options right now. Cassian wasn't looking too happy about that.

"Over my dead fucking body" He exploded. "Why can't (Y/N) do it?! She's a good fucking dancer, that's for sure."

"Thanks for the compliment, Cass." You smiled at him, his eyes full of hope for you to take his side. "But I'm with Rhys on this one. If I thought it was going to work I would do it, trust me... But Eris has known me for years, he knows I despise him. He's not going to buy the act and you know it. Plus, it will be fun to see Nesta toying with him." You gave her a wink while Cassian groaned.

"You want me to dance with Eris?" Nesta looked at you, but it was Rhys who answered.

"I want you to seduce him. Not into bed, but to make him realize what he might attain once he understands that we have no plans to break this alliance. To weigh the benefits more strongly than the risks."

"I'm sure you will do just fine, Nesta. I can show you all the dances so that you'll be prepared." You looked at her with bright eyes. Dancing lessons, always so fun.

"Nesta hasn't agreed to anything." Cassian snapped. "Even one dance with that prick is too much-"

"I'll do it." Nesta cut in, looking at you.

"Good" You smirked at her. "We start tomorrow."

----------------------------------------------------------

The Winter Solstice celebration was in full swing, people drinking and dancing to the beautiful music. With Rhysand and Feyre in the throne, you were sandwiched between Cassian and Azriel, the former glaring daggers at Eris' back while he danced with Nesta and the latter monitoring everything, his left wing resting lightly on your back.

"Fuck." Cassian growled. "I can't stand and watch this." He stormed off towards Mor, who was hiding behind a pillar on the other side of the throne.

"How long do you think will take them to realize?" A slow smile crept on your lips as you looked at Az.

"Realize what, Azriel?" Your innocent eyes met his cold stare. Everyone knew that they were mates. Everyone but Cassian and Nesta, apparently. And Eris, luckily.

"You look beautiful, (Y/N)." The sudden change of subject almost gave you whiplash. "As always."

His eyes roamed down your body, covered in a Night Court black dress that hugged every curve of your body. A small strip went around your neck and back, securing two pieces of fabric covering your breasts diagonally, forming a triangle that showed the tan skin of your torso, from the middle of your breasts until the top of your navel. A tight skirt was attached to it and your back was left exposed, your hair tied up in a tight ponytail that flowed down to the top of your ass. It seemed like time had stopped while Azriel's eyes covered your entire body. Finally returning to your face, his stare found your eyes and suddenly you felt a blush staining your cheeks.

"Uh..." You coughed, trying not to think too much about that stare. "Thanks, Az. You cleaned up nice, too." Winking at him, you turned to look straight once again.

Cleaning up nice wasn't enough to describe him. Az was... Az. His eyes, his body, his hair... All of him made you think the dirtiest thoughts ever. Like how his lips would feel against your skin, how having him look at you with that intensity in his eyes would feel while he was moving inside of you- Stop.

You needed to stop. You coughed again and felt Azriel looking at you again, a smirk covering his lips. Okey, maybe your smell had given away what your thoughts had been about, but he didn't know that you were thinking about him, did he?

Before you could overreact, he leaned towards you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You could feel goosebumps erupt all over your skin as he whispered. "Would you like to dance with me?"

You turned, your faces so close that your noses were almost touching, and you could see the amusement glinting in his eyes. Without breaking the eye contact, he lifted a hand in between your bodies and you took it, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

"Sure, Az." Your voice was higher than you'd intended, but still you plastered a cool smile on your face and lead the way to the dance floor.

A new song began just as you were settling down in a circle of couples. You could spy a glint of red hair on your peripheral vision, and you knew that Eris and Nesta were still going. Good. She seemed like she was having fun, after all.

The music began and both of you bowed, presenting yourselves to one another. He offered one of his hands and you gladly took it, taking one step closer to him. His other hand snaked across your waist and settled on your back. It was cold compared to your burning skin, and you could feel a shiver running up your back. Trying to suppress it, you forced yourself to look up at Azriel, a small sigh leaving your lips.

He was handsome, beautiful. The kind of person who turned heads wherever he went. A small pang of jealousy filled your chest at that thought and you shoved it down. It was ridiculous. You and Az were nothing, even though your chemistry was something else, that was for sure.

Azriel began moving, leading both of you graciously across the dance floor.

"I'm always surprised to see how good of a dancer you are." You were looking at his shoulder, trying to calm down the raging fire burning your insides.

"You'll be surprised to know how good I am at many things, (Y/N)." You could feel his smile as he said the words, and it was clear that he was aware of your body. Of the goosebumps, of your galloping heart and of the sweet, imperceptible to everyone but him smell of your arousal.

You tilted your head back, looking him in the eye, and the color stained your cheeks as you already found him looking at you. And then you felt it too. His slightly dilated pupils, his tongue swipping on his bottom lip and... His smell. It was just a slight change, you wouldn't even have noticed it if it weren't for the way he was looking at you. But there it was. Something muskier, rougher. Darker.

"You could show me, you know." The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

You were always teasing Azriel, making jokes, giving him shit for always being so mysterious. But this felt different. It seemed like the whole room vanished and you were the only ones dancing around. His hand tightened on our back, bringing your body impossibly closer to him. You could feel his heart through your own chest, and a knowing smirk creeped over your face as you realized that it was beating as fast as yours. Azriel leaned once more, his mouth caressing your ear.

"I've been waiting to show you for a long, long time, (Y/N)." His voice was deeper, and you had a hard time suppressing a moan.

He moved away and you almost whined until you realized that the dance was over. You were about to grab his hand again and demand to know more about what he just said when Cassian appeared.

"Az, I need you to go dance with Nesta, please." He signaled with his head towards the throne. "Eris is talking with Rhys and I need to know what's going on."

"Sure, brother."

Cassian sprinted towards Mor once more and you were observing your High Lord and High Lady. Rhys wore a cool smile, just like Feyre, but you could sense the worry in her eyes. You didn't even see Azriel moving until the front of his body was flushed against your back, his hands possessively gripping your hips.

"Tonight is the night I'll show you everything that I'm good at." He lowered his head, pressing a quick kiss just below your ear. "And I'll show you everything I've been dying to do to you."

Your eyes almost rolled back into your head and you were about to become jelly in his hands, but you managed to turn around quickly, grabbing one of his hands before he could slip away.

"Make it a promise, Shadowsinger."

Azriel smiled and winked at you, before he went to find Nesta as the next dance began.

[littlefireball]

May I please request a Yeosang x reader x Seongwha smut. Where yeosang is a virgin and so is reader and seongwha set up so yeosang can lose his virginity unknowingly the reader was a virgin so they went at it and reader started to bleed and freak out and Yeosang helped her settle down and called Seongwha to come in and help etc?

hmm sorry im not sure i understand so i write this request based on my own understanding.

ʏꜱ|ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴍᴇ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ (ᴍ) ꜰᴛ. ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ

ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ x ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴏʀᴀʟ|ɴᴇᴄᴋ ᴋɪꜱꜱ|ᴅʀʏ ʜᴜᴍᴘ|ᴛʜʀᴇᴇꜱᴏᴍᴇ(??)|ᴄʟɪᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏ|ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴇx

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.2ᴋ

Masterlist

Dragon hybrids, like werewolves, usually find their soulmate after their first shift which is between the age 18 to 20. Yet, there is a difference. If that dragon hybrid doesn't mark their mate, they can be marked by others which means their soulmate can be 'stolen'.

"You still haven't marked Y/N yet?!"Seonghwa nearly exclaimed in disbelief upon learning that you and Yeosang had not yet mated. "We are not prepared," Yeosang mumbled, feeling embarrassed as he nervously scratched his neck.

"C'mon, Yeosang. You know it's risky if you don't mark her." "I know but…" To be honest, Seonghwa couldn't imagine Yeosang marking you as he was too innocent to do that. But, it was necessary. Seonghwa's mate had been 'stolen' because he believed they weren't ready for mating, just like what Yeosang thought, and tragedy ensued. The painful and sorrowful memories were still fresh, and he never wanted Yeosang to go through that.

"Sangie~" You rushed to Yeosang once you found Yeosang and Seonghwa were resting in the pavilion, back hugging yeosang and nuzzling his neck. You loved his oud wood scent. "Have you finished training?" He gently caressed your head, smiling lovingly. "Yah!I ranked first today. Did I do well?" You nodded as a fool, acting so cute. "My baby is always doing well." He pecked at your cheek, his gaze wall full of affection.

"Okay, you two. I'm still here." Seonghwa said helplessly, covering his face as if he was watching something embarrassing. "Oh sorry, Seonghwa." You trailed off, offering an embarrassing smile.

"Y/N you want a fly?" Yeosang asked. "Sure." "Okay, then you two go to fly and don't be hovey-dovey in front of me." You two nodded as you spread your wings and flew to the sky, disappearing from Seonghwa's gaze.

"Sigh Maybe I have to do something to help them." Seonghwa decided.

—----

You both embraced each other on the lush green grass, relishing in the serene moments. While some may find it mundane to simply recline on the earth and engage in idleness, you both found joy in it as well. After all, you were soulmates.

"Y/N?" "Hm?" You raised your head to meet his gentle gaze. "I have something to ask you…" "What? Honey." "You are my mate and I know it is risky not to mark you." Yeosang trailed off, feeling embarrassed as blush creeped up his face. You didn't say anything but just looked at him getting closer to your lips. "What do you think about this?" He brushed your lips with his thumb, whispering softly. "I…" A sudden ringing phone cut you off, Yeosang took out his phone and 'Seonghwa hyung' flashed on the screen.

"Hello?" Seonghwa's angry face displayed on the screen, you knew something bad happened. "Yeosang, you better come back now. LOOK AT THE MESS YOU'VE MADE!" The camera panned to reveal a charred section of the kitchen, evidence of a forgotten stove. "Oh my god! I'm back right now!" Both of you flew back to their shared house as fast as possible, without noticing that it was only a fake image.

"Seonghwa hyung?" The house stood empty, devoid of any signs of a burnt stove. All seemed in perfect order, as if untouched by any mishap. "Why did he call us then?" Yeosang inquired, to which you simply shrugged. "Yet, do you not detect a special fragrance?" Upon stepping inside, a delightful aroma embraced you like a warmth, causing both your body temperatures to soar.

"Is it from you?Y/N?" You could tell Yeosang's gaze was full of lust, his tone became even deeper. Actually, that special fragrance was yours, just enhanced. Yeosang's oud wood scent enveloped you like a hot wave; and your musk scent crushed his sanity.

Both of you got nuts.

"You smell so good, Y/N." Yeosang's longing surged like a wild creature unleashed from its confines, compelling him to assert his dominance over you. He found himself unable to resist drawing you close, burying his face in your neck, savoring your intoxicating aroma. "Yeo…yeosang." Instinctively, you tilted your head, granting him greater proximity, sensing his hold grow stronger.

"No, it's not enough." He whispered softly against your delicate skin before swiftly removing your top. Yeosang was overcome with desire, lavishing kisses on every inch of your body as he tore your garments apart. You were taken aback by his sudden intensity, yet you couldn't bring yourself to halt his actions. He lifted you onto the table, causing items to crash to the floor. The noise of shattered objects failed to rouse him from his trance; his mind was consumed by your intoxicating scent.

You grabbed the edge of the table tightly to support yourself, watching him bury his face in your lower core. Pulling the hem of your panties to the side, he sucked and kissed your clit without a second thought. "Fuck!" You screamed at the sudden touch of wet muscle, making him suck harder and lick quicker. "Baby, you taste so good." He whispered against your clit before standing up to undress himself. Due to his lack of patience, he found himself in a rush. Enraged, he swiftly tore off his garments, causing the fabric to drape on each side of his well-built physique and you swallowed hard at this sense.

"Mine." He pulled out his cock and eased into you in one go, making you throw your head. Yet, he didn't allow you a moment to adjust as he proceeded with such intensity and speed. You furrowed your brow and clenched your lip to bear the discomfort, assuming it was usual. Yet, the discomfort jolted you awake from the longing. With each collision, it seemed as though you were being struck by a boulder, prompting you to hiss.

"Yeosang, yeosang." You attempted to halt him, yet he remained oblivious to your murmur. Your warmth, your fragrance, every aspect of you sent him into a frenzy. He drew his hips and shoved into you with all his might. "Oh!Fuck!!It hurts!Please stop, yeosang!" The sharp pain became unbearable and you shouted out, making yeosang stop immediately as his sanity came back.

"Baby?Baby?Are you alright?I…I…I'm sorry." He was heartbroken when he saw you cry, and couldn't believe what he had done to you. "Oh my god, you're bleeding." "What?!"As he withdrew slowly, he found that the blood was staining on his member and even dripping onto your thighs. You freaked out, not sure when it would stop. "It must hurt, I'm sorry, honey." Yeosang comforted you as he swept your tears and caressed your cheek with all his gentleness.

"Don't be that rough…" "Yah, yah, I'm sorry." He murmured softly before placing a tender kiss on your cheek; you enveloped him in a warm embrace, yearning for comfort. But, both of you felt bad now, not only because of the pain he caused, but also from the fiery desire that still raged within your bodies. "Please fuck me one more time, I need you, sangie." You begged, feeling the emptiness was unbearable.

You needed him to fill you up, with his knot.

"But…what if I hurt you again? And you have to stop bleeding first." He asked with concern. "Please, please, please." You relinquished control as the tumultuous emotions unsettled you; yearning for his return, you extended your tail to ensnare his thigh and draw him near, yet the pain he caused just now gave you pause.

Feeling his tip rubbed against your entrance sent you a numbness through your body. Yes, that's what you wanted. Yeosang, however, stopped you before you could have a further process, causing you to whine in dissatisfaction.

"Baby, wait for a second. Hm?" You shook your head and pouted. "Be a good girl," He gently tucked your hair behind your ear, pecking at your cheek. "Let me help you stop bleeding first, okay? And I'll call Seonghwa hyung for help."

—---

"Need some help?" Seonghwa entered the room without a second thought once he received Yeosang's message for help, not realizing the fragrance was still lingering. Shit. Your musk scent was so freaking good to drive him crazy. "Oh gosh…" Seonghwa growled in a deep voice as he found you hugging Yeosang naked like a koala.

He wanted to fuck you, too.

"Seonghwa hyung, we need your help." Seonghwa clenched fists to keep calm, coming to both of you. "Wh─what you need…need me?" He stammered, unable to tear his gaze from your beautiful figure. "Please, teach me how to mark her." Yeosang's words made his eyes widened at surprise, he never expected this kind of request. "I hurt her but I can't just leave her…Did you get it…?" "Well, what you need to do is treat her gently." He swallowed hard as he got closer to you, feeling all the heat rush to his tip.

Seonghwa walked to you, his fingertip shaking at the moment he touched your back. His hands shifted to your thighs, lifting you up and whispering in your ears, "Sit on him, girl." Aiming at Yeosang's arched cock, you slowly sunk down and hissed at slight pain. "Take it slow and don't be too rough. That's it." Seonghwa's deep voice sent shiver down your spine, not to mention his breath landed against your skin, making your heartbeat raise up.

Your head rested on Yeosang's chest for a while, but still not moving. This position allowed Yeosang to nestle so deep inside you, each small movement could stimulate you. "I-I need help…" You asked for help as you were afraid of pain to move. "It's okay, honey." Yeosang brought you into a passionate kiss by cupping your face, sucking your lips slightly while starting to thrust upward. But again, you frowned because it was uncomfortable.

He was too big for you, maybe.

"Hey hey, slow it down, Yeosang." Seonghwa climbed onto the bed and sat behind you. "Try to relax, don't be so intense, Y/N." "Can you help her? Seonghwa hyung." "Wh…Are you sure?" "Yes, please help me, Seonghwa." "I won't mark her, I promise."

Seonghwa's hand trailed down to your clit, giving it a soft press before rubbing it at a quick pace. "Shit…" You whispered softly as you sensed his strong chest against your delicate back. Seonghwa skillfully moved his lower core closer to your ass, caressing it with his curved crotch; Yeosang, on the other hand, firmly held your chin to claim you into a hungry kiss.

You could feel how Seonghwa's cock nestled between your tight asses and Yeosang's member twitched each time you let out a moan. Seonghwa traced circles with his finger, occasionally tapping it, sending ripples of ecstasy through you. As the kiss broke, a newfound confidence surged within you, compelling you to bounce with desire. You mirrored Seonghwa's rhythm, bouncing up and down, maintaining a steady tempo.

"You're so good, babe." Yeosang rolled his eyes at the back as his tip reached the deepest part when you sunk down. The sensation of numbness just like an electricity ran through the whole body, making you both moan so loud. "Doing well, Y/N." Seonghwa encouraged you.

"Fuck!" You let out a soft whimper as their pace quickened. Yeosang surged upward, striking your most sensitive spot perfectly, causing your walls to clench around him. "I must claim you now," he declared, his size increasing as he prepared to knot you. With a firm grip on your waist, Yeosang leaned in closer. "Oh my!" Your head nestled against Seonghwa's chest, his crotch sunk deeper, eliciting a shared moan that lingered on both your lips.

Yeosang buried his face into the crook of your neck while thrusting as fast as possible. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder, nails digging into his skin, making blood flow out a little bit. Yeosang never felt this excitement before, causing him to almost cum. Seonghwa continued to tap and caressed your clit, moving faster to follow Yeosang's thrust.

"Fuck!!" Suddenly, a sharp pain spread throughout the body. Yeosang's cock entered your most intimate space and locked in. His thrusting was ruthless, trying to reach his peak. "Yeo…yeosang." You shutted your eyes and panted heavily, the pain was shifted to pleasure after a few powerful thrust. "Baby, cum with me and be mine." His words pushed you to the edge, coming hard on his cock. Yeosang bit your chest and released it all after a while, finishing the marking.

"Oh god…"Yeosang laid beside the bed and pulled you into his arms. "You alright?Honey." "Yah, I'm ok." Three of you wheezed and sweated profusely. "Thank you, hyung." "Nothing, just remember to clean up is ok." He rested his arm on his forehead, finding a wet spot on his crotch. Alas, it was hard to clean. Screw it!

"But wait a minute…" Yeosang gazed at Seonghwa with shock. "You call us back but there is no burnt stove!" Seonghwa stammered, not knowing how to respond. "You fool us!" "Wait─aww…" "What a horrible hyung!" "Wh─I just…sigh fine…" But, it may not be bad at all because you finally became his, forever his.

[yeoosaangg]

៹ ALL MINE || KINKTOBER ─ DAY 19

➛ PAIRING:: LEE JENO × FEM!READER

➛ NOW PLAYING:: ALL MINE — PLAZA

⤷ ❝MAN, I DIDN'T WANT THIS ALL, BELIEVE ME. I WOULD'VE BEEN SO GONE, BUT HER SEX SO STRONG.❞

➛ GENRE:: BOYFRIEND'S!BESTFRIEND, NON-IDOL!AU, SMUT

➛ WARNINGS:: SIZE KINK, BREEDING KINK, DEGRADATION, GETTING CAUGHT, INFIDELITY, ROUGH SEX, SPITTING, THROAT FUCKING

── ⋆ ⋆ ── 𔘓 ── ⋆ ⋆ ──

Jeno did not expect for this to go as long as it has.

You're his best friend's girlfriend, yet he folded the second you showed interest in him.

You are his own personal drug.

No matter how hard he tried to stay away, he comes crawling back when you ask him to.

And he can't help but love the fact that you're smaller than him. His hands and body engulf you, and it has his dick jumping for more.

That's why he's currently got you pinned against your boyfriend's mattress.

Just like he's always had you.

You're a moaning mess as he slams his giant cock into your tight hole. His hands push your legs against your chest, fingers digging into your flesh with a hiss.

Jeno: You're such a fucking whore, Y/n. Getting fucked dumb by your boyfriend's best friend. What if he were to come back early, hm?

You knew it was risky, always luring Jeno into his roommate's bedroom to fuck you. But you don't care anymore.

You just want him so bad.

Jeno: My cock keeps opening you up, baby. Soon, it'll fit me perfectly. You'd like that, wouldn't you? To be my personal cocksleeve?

You scream, clawing at the sheets below you as he pins you down in a mating press.

There's something about the way your mouth falls open with broken moans slipping out that keeps his cock hard. He just keeps fucking you deeper into the mattress, hips bruising your ass.

Both of you cum for the third time that night.

He moans into your mouth as he fills your cunt again, mixing with his other two loads inside you.

Jeno: What'll Jaemin think when you get pregnant, Y/n? Don't think I'd just let you run around playing house with my fucking kid.

You're crying in oversensitivity. He still doesn't pull away for you to take a much needed break. But he also knows that if you truly wanted him to get off, you'd call the safe word.

Jeno: He'll understand, won't he? Why the kid will look like me instead of him? Why your slutty cunt doesn't get wet for him anymore?

His weight on top of you was too much, but the way his cock hits the deepest part of your insides has you drooling all over yourself.

Jeno: Can't speak now, can you? Where's the bitch that was begging me to fuck her two hours ago?

You whine, squeezing your tits as he sits up and pushes your legs over his shoulders.

He presses his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he pumps his cock along your dripping walls. He kisses you deeply, both of you moaning in each other's mouth.

He feels you squeeze his cock, squirting all over him again. He smirks against your lips as he pulls out of your swollen pussy.

You whine at the loss of his cock, but gasp when he straddles your head.

Jeno: Come on, baby. Put your mouth to good use as my cum drips out of your cunt.

You obediently open your mouth for him to fuck your face. He always gets surprised at your lack of gag reflex - it just adds to his desire to destroy you.

His hips stutter against your nose, holding onto your hair so he can get as deep down your throat as possible. You look up at him with droopy eyes, moaning on his cock.

Jeno: You're so fucking nasty. Look at you letting me abuse your face.

He bites his lip, not breaking the eye contact as he shoots another load down your throat. The hard look in his eyes as he continues thrusting his hips has you cumming untouched.

He pulls away, grabbing your chin harshly. He spits in your mouth and demands you to swallow. You obey, opening your mouth for him to see that you listened.

Jeno: Good girl.

Jaemin: What the fuck?

Oh shit.

═══

a/n: i wonder if anyone's gonna notice what i did... ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ thank you for reading ‹𝟹

[ncis-nerd]

Don't you worry darling

theatre actor r! x stage manager!natasha romanov

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, sensory issues, panic attacks, crying.

Marvel Masterlist

a/n: not based off true events .. juliet if you see this... no u don't 😭

"Dude!! You're clothes are getting wet!!" Your castmate, Kate exclaimed. "Huh?" You looked at her confused. Your clothes were sitting perfectly on top of your bag, on the chair..Were they not?

Your eyes glanced towards the chair where your stuff resided at, and there were gone. SHIT- You rushed to pick it up from the tray of water but it was too late, the damage was done.

You were in an off Broadway play, sharing a dressing room with 13 of your cast mates, plus the guys from the other play. They kept the room so disgusting and you got the smaller room out of the two. But at least yours had a window and now had air conditioning. A downside to the air conditioning is that it would leak, so they had to get a tray to let the water fall into.

You knew it was risky putting your stuff so close to it but you just wanted to stay out of people's way. It was hard being squeezed into a tight, sweaty dressing room with 13 other people.

So of course, you didn't know how to react when you picked up your shirt, hoodie and pants, all drenched in the freezing water bin. Stupidly, you left it on top of your bag and rushed out. Keep it together, keep it together. Don't cry. You locked yourself in the bathroom, tossing cold water onto your very red face. Tears streamed down your face.

What were you suppose to do? Your clothes to change back into were wet, you can't wear your costume home and you'll get sick wearing wet clothes on a 2 hour train ride back home. Not to mention uncomfortable, due to the texture.

After a minute of attempting to calm yourself down, you exit the bathroom. As you open the door to the dressing room, you noticed members form the other cast have migrated in there as well, like Tony, Steve, Bucky, etc. "Y/N! Come join us in cards!!" Maria exclaimed. "No.. it's okay" you mumbled, as they shut the door.

It was way too crowded in there and you did not want to go in there. Instead, you looked for your director Natasha or the stage member Wanda or literally anyone that could help. But no one was there, so you stood there pacing. Don't start crying again, don't start crying. Your hand rose, taking its place on your scalp. Your fingers ran down your hair, a nervous tick of yours.

Finally, after fighting back years, you start to feel drops run down your face. "Yeah and she said- hold on I'll be right back!" You heard 2 of your cast mates, Kate and Yelena speak. You saw them when you came out of the bathroom but they went down the hall to gossip. Kate went into the bathroom and Yelena made her way back down the hall, towards you.

Dammit- she's gonna see me crying.. As Yelena starts to walk down the hall, she finds you crying in the corner. "Y/n- are you okay??" She spoke, her expressed worried. "I-i" You saw your assistant manager enter backstage.

Her eyes trailed onto yours, the brunette obviously concerned about you. "Someone knocked my clothes into the water and now it's all wet" you sniffles, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. A hitch in your breath and you could feel snot running down your face.

"Hey. Hey. It's gonna be all right, okay? We've got extra clothes, okay? Are wet clothes a texture thing for you?" Wanda, your assistant manager asked.

"No but it's gonna be uncomfortable wearing wet clothes for a 2 hour commute home" you said, wiping the tears from your face.

"I see you're an overthinker but try not to worry. We have dryers. I could put your clothes to dry?" The brunette asked.

"It's on the blue bag, close to the water tray. It's a hoodie, shirt and pants." You stuttered, trying to get your words out. "Okay, thank you, Y/n, I'll go grab it right now. Don't worry" she spoke softly.

You nodded as she entered the room, you saw her come back out with your clothes in her hand. "Luckily it's not too wet but I'll still go ahead and dry that for you." She smiled.

As the brunette left, you sat by the door. Not wanting to go back in the crowded room. You heard a loud "YEAH!!" or stomp or overall odd sound, come from the room. "That can't be good.." Wanda sighed, not bothering to go check it out.

Yelena and Kate, and a few other people from the other play whom you didn't know were chilling outside the room, so you just sat there with them. Not paying much attention to their conversations, just on your phone.

"I WIN!!" A voice screams from the room. "That sounds..." Kate trailed off. "Welcome to my world!" Wanda hummed, making her way back on stage.

--

FUCK, how could you be so stupid! You finally mastered your cues but managed to fuck up the one line you had. Everyone else did so good! "And I don't!" Mj exclaimed. Shocking everyone with how much she had improved in practing her monolouge. Your castmates went over to praise her. "You did so good!" "MJ THAT WAS AMAZING!!" you join them for a moment but then you dig your fingers into your palm. Don't you start crying. Not here, in front of them.

You made your way back to the dressing room, with the other girls. Yesterday you saw Maria sit under the dresser counter, it looked comfortable and most of all- isolated. You sat down, bumping your head in the procress. "Ouchh" you groan softly.

Your head took it place on your knees, you covered your face and began to sob quietly, you literally have the easiest job. Only 2 lines, and a few cues. It's not that hard. How could you screw that up?

"Time for notes!" Your stage manager Natasha exclaimed, entering the room. You didn't budge but no one seemed to notice you and you were greatful for that.

"Maria you really surprised us all back there, that was incredible!" Natasha smiled, praising the girl. "Yeah that was epic!" Another voice said. You recognized it, it was May, another one of the managers. You thought it was only Natasha there, is Wanda also there?

"And y/n?" Natasha paused. "Y/N? Are they asleep? Are they okay?" You heard her speak. A bunch of mumbles filled your ears, they were overly sensitive like that. Natasha took the hint to move on after no movement or words from you.

After the managers had left, they said you and your cast could change out of costumes and were dismissed. You rushed out, making a run for the bathroom before it got crowded. You had snot dripping down your shirt and needed to wash your face.

When you were done, you looked around. For someone, Natasha or Wanda. To explain what had happened and that you weren't just slacking off. But you saw no one. Kate left the dressing room, "Hey have you seen Wanda?" You mumbled, trying not to cry. You felt a big gulp in your throat. "Yeah I think she might be on stage." Kate smiled softly. "Could you get her for me, please?" You mumbled, once again fidgeting with your fingers. Kate nodded and you stood backstage, waiting. As she left, Natasha entered. "Hey! Y/N? What happened?" Natasha spoke softly, with an ounce of concern in her voice. Her face filled with sympathy. "Do you want to talk?" You nodded and thats when Wanda entered the room. They led you out of the theater and somewhere more private to speak.

You were nervous about being in there because the company that owns the theater had told you guys that you weren't allowed to hang out or be in there. But you ignored it, as they were trying to be accommodating to the best they could.

You took a seat next to Natasha, Wanda standing. "I forgot my lines, I froze and I forgot my lines but everyone else did so good." You sniffled. "Hey, it's okay. You messed up but you know that you did, you know you made a mistake so that's progress! Is there anything you need?" Natasha spoke softly, her eyes focused on your teary ones. "...Water" you mumbled, Natasha and Wanda left the room. Natasha was the first to return with a cup of water. "Wanda went to check on your clothes." Natasha said, when you noticed that Wanda was gone.

You nodded and tried to break the silence. "Do you have any notes for me?" You asked. "Are you sure you want to hear that right now?" Natasha shot you a hesitant look. You nodded, "Yeah, please?" "Alright, if that's what you want. Could you be louder in the songs? We couldn't quite hear you from the back. And then there's the note about how you froze but you know so that's pretty much it." Natasha spoke softly.

Wanda entered the room, with your clothes and a shirt. "So your clothes are mostly dried, your shirts still a little wet. We can leave that here to dry, I gave you my shirt." Wanda smiled, putting a hand on your shoulder for support, before she left. "I-im gonna go change, if that's okay?" You spoke. Natasha nodded.

..

this baby has been sitting in my drafts for months bruh. pls don't flop i know there's barely any intimacy but i wanted to try to keep it as real as possible

[featguler]

PROLOGUE : I WON'T BE ALONE ( FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE )

jude and a couple of his academy mates decide to try the korean chicken place down his dorm's block, famous for its cheese tteokbokki and infamous for its grumpy chef. he meets a girl and shoots the first shot he does not miss that day.

prologue of ' call my bluff '

⌗ pairing : jude bellingham x female original character ⌗ wordcount : 5,743 ⌗ notes : the prologue of this brand new series!! i am so excited. also i said this in the masterlist of this series, but please don't take anything said in this fic is facts... i don't know if jude ever lived in a dorm, and i don't care enough to find out. i've also never been to birmi so... ignore all geographical matters pls. no one in this chapter is real except for jude if you would like to be added to the taglist, please do let me know! surprise surprise, this chapter was actually proofread by my friends, shin (@ludiceousml) and arya (@amigara-vault). love u guys ♡ masterlist.

mini playlist ! 𐙚 forever noah kahan : i'm glad i get forever to see where you end 𐙚 speak too soon wild rivers : i saw you when my sight was sore 𐙚 buzz niki : phone toss when it's risky and you hit send 𐙚 first day of my life bright eyes : i think i was blind before i met you 𐙚 decimal novo amor : i could be alright if you could rewrite my life

The second month of life at Birmingham City is strange. Strange, as in, it feels like floating in space. Strange, as in, it feels like something in between, like limbo. Strange, as in, Jude has not felt yet like he is where he belongs. Strange, as in, he misses Jobe the way he misses his parents the way he misses that old stain on his family sofa from when Jobe spilled boiled corn after tripping on his untied laces.

The academy is an academy, and he’ll be damned if he had not expected the dorm to be just like a dorm. But he thinks that he has widely miscalculated how concerned the people are over football here. Jude did not start out with a burning passion for football fresh out of the womb, after all, he always preferred picking flowers to bundle for his mother.

“I think I’m homesick,” he told Denise just earlier that week in a quiet call on the dorm’s emergency fire exit. “I miss Jobe so much.”

Who's to say that best friends cannot wrestle until the other bumps their leg hard enough on the edge of a coffee table to bruise? While Jude would occasionally have Jobe’s foot on his face to distract him from scoring the penalty in FIFA, they are definitely best friends. And he missed his best friend.

Denise only laughed when she heard the confession, and he felt the ghost of her fingers rubbing the back of his neck. “Homesick, or Jobesick?”

And that made Jude laugh too, because he never really considered homesick as a word containing two separate words. Never home, never sick. Just homesick. So when his mother replaced the vocal point of longing with the name of his brother, he almost faltered. A sentiment so widespread was suddenly customised to fit him.

“Yeah. Guess I’m Jobesick.”

Zakariya was sprawled across the floor of his dorm room when he suddenly began moaning about how sick he was of protein shakes and eggs for breakfast, craving the cheesebokki from that restaurant down the street. Jude wasn’t aware that he had the brain capacity to talk about anything other than Ronaldinho or his hot, older girlfriend, but there he was, practically drooling like a dog at the thought of a Korean cheat meal amongst the vegetables that they shove down your throat in the academy.

Jude’s encyclopaedia of Korean food ends with hot chicken wings, so he propped his head over a pillow, shifting to the edge of his bed to catch Zakariya’s attention.

“Cheesebokki?” He repeated, the word tasted foreign in his mouth. “Sounds good,” it didn’t sound like anything, “let’s go this sunday. After the practice match.”

“It’s spicy,” Zakariya warned, and Jude shrugged. He can handle spicy. Not any less than Zakariya, that is for sure. “Sure, man. If you think you can handle it. I’ll ask Ethan and Teddy if they wanna come along. Jamal, you should come too.”

Jude considered immediately backing off when he heard the names Zakariya brought up. He likes Zakariya. But he can’t say the same about Ethan, and Teddy, he is amicable with. Jamal, the only one he could already call a friend, couldn’t go. After matches, Sundays are reserved for church and his mother; they are about the same thing to Jamal anyway.

Jude called his mum to ask for her opinion—he’s similar to Jamal in this way—and she encouraged him to go.

“Maybe you’ll find that you and Ethan have much more in common than you initially thought.”

He doubted it. Denise was only saying that because she likes Alicia Ewart, Ethan’s mother. Ethan thinks he is too good for the academy, and Jude thinks he’s full of shit.

But he ended up going. He knows that a mother’s blessing eases the path. His mother’s especially.

No one in this world calls Olivia by her Korean name.

Haewon, to her, is simply not an interesting enough word.

She is not saying that she is anything more than ordinary, or even just an inch off of being riveting, but there are two people in just her family with her exact name: her great-aunt and a distant cousin. And despite most of Birmingham not having a clue on who those other Haewon’s are, they are, no less, two extra Haewon’s in her life.

And as a matter of fact, she was named after her great-aunt deliberately, like she is not allowed her own identity. To add icing on the cake, her Haewon translates roughly to sailor or seaman, or something like that; a name that grants nothing but strenuous expectations for her. Her great-aunt’s Haewon, however, translates to beautiful ocean.

Beautiful-Ocean-Haewon was Olivia’s grandmother’s younger sister.

Her grandmother died three months before her father turned four years old, and her grandfather before her father was even born. Yujae Jang was taken in by his aunt effective immediately. He thinks that she was so great (Olivia wouldn’t have a way of knowing as she died before she was even born). He thinks that she was what a mother is supposed to epitomise: unconditional love in a condition where condition is consequential.

But for someone who looks up to mother figures so much, Yujae sure finds it difficult to spare his own wife, the mother of his children, a cordial glance. And a man who does not respect his wife naturally despises his daughter.

He doesn’t have to say it. Olivia knows. It’s her chief theory in navigating her path; the lighthouse guiding her worn down seaboat. From the moment he named her sailor, she knew.

And she doesn’t like to admit it, but though her fragility stands on its toes, balancing on a tipping vase, what she feels, what she thinks, do not matter as much as she would like to believe. Being delicate is something she has long outgrown. It does not interest her anymore. Being frail brings nothing but heartache, and while her heart is not desensitised to stabwounds, she relishes in the fact that a straight face will save herself some embarrassment.

So, she embraces the ocean and sets sail as a seaman.

Names are meant to be prayers after all; some kind of prophecies that name-holders are cursed to fulfil. Her theory states that her father’s disappointment peaked the day she was born, and the little optimism he had gifted him a son three years later.

And this is a lot of thinking for a secondary school student, sure, but thinking crooked is something that Olivia does most days her father decides to scream at her for something trivial. She has gone from wishing him harm in her mind to taking part in the devout practice of self-pity. No one is going to calm her cries and rub her back. Not her mother, not her brother, and definitely not her father. She has got to do it herself.

Now, Philip, twelve years old, is wiping tabletops. And Olivia, fifteen years old, is trembling as she scribbles on some scratch papers, finishing her mathematics homework so that she can spend the rest of the night sobbing against her pillow.

“Welcome to Jang’s Chicken, how are you lot?”

The little bell above the heavy mahogany door  just a few feet away from the cashier counter jingles; her nose is still tainted red and her cheeks are still surrendering to the tears streaming from her eyes.

The restaurant had been so quiet just a few moments ago, and the only sound you could hear was the choir of angry utensils cling-clang-ing against one another as Yujae washes the plate. Her mother is coating raw chicken with egg yolk and flour on one corner table, quiet as she has always been. Philip is cleaning the tables, then spraying some cleaning chemical only to wipe the same spot over and over. A piece of thread could cut through the silence.

But instead of a thread, it is broken by a horde of rowdy boys. Their windbreaker is familiar: a football academy from a couple of blocks away from the restaurant. They are bustling and filled with haste, looking at everything but her, scrutinising the humble decoration of Korean calligraphy all over the creaking walls of the family restaurant.

Olivia can see the spot where her shoes were laid just as she got home from tutoring that day, where she took them off in a hurry to rush to the loo, only for her father to yell at her when she forgot to place them in the cabinet next to the entrance. Then here comes these boys—customers—with their stupid cleats still attached to each of their feet, dirtying up the freshly swept floor, not having a clue what monstrosity their action would lead to if they were Olivia.

She huffs, wiping a dripping snot with the base of her palm.

Fathers can be so evil, she thinks, but her father especially.

The Birmingham F.C. Academy students have been regulars in Jang’s Chicken since as long as Olivia could remember. A group of students from a different year, just a few days ago, had visited the restaurant. Since she started working as a cashier three years ago, they have been coming in. Since before she was even born, they have been coming in. Olivia is not fazed with football; she is not fazed with boys who play football.

She gathers her hair, tying them in a low ponytail before pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“We’re good, how are you?”

The one that looks oldest—or tallest, at least—greets before stepping forward. He grabs one of the oily, limp laminated menus from the tabletop, holding them in a way that is visible to the rest of the crowd. Olivia smiles weakly and decides to not answer the small talk.

“We should get the party box.”

Olivia rubs her nose as she hides a sniffle. “That's 16 pieces of chicken,” she uses her finger to point at a menu on the table. “You can choose up to three flavours for the party box.”

She doesn’t know if she’s gotten good at hiding the nasal in her voice, or if they were nice enough to not point out how red her eyes are. By the way the leader of the bunch glances down at her as quick as he looks away, she guesses that it’s the latter.

From the corner of her eyes, she sees Lip taking a seat next to their mother. She shoots him a look and he sends her a shrug in return.

A boy peeks over the first boy’s shoulder. “What's soju?”

“That's booze,” another one slaps the back of his head lightly as Olivia focuses her attention back to them.

“We don't sell alcohol to underage customers,” she hurries in as well, and the boys nod.

“Obviously.” Murmurs of agreement rustles.

”I want the cheesebokki” — a cute way their restaurant had shortened ‘cheese tteokbokki’ — “and a can o’ Coke.”

A scoff escapes their leader. “Last time you got that, you shitted yourself for a week, didntcha, mate?”

Collective groans emit from the group and Olivia scrunches her nose.

”Not in front of the lady, E,” the cheesebokki enjoyer turns red. “Besides! It’s good,” his hand smacks the chest of a boy closest to him, “and Judey here says he’ll share with me.”

Olivia only smiles, just to be polite, and to hold back a sigh.

Jude has been watching the cashier girl from the back of the group.

The whole walk to Jang’s Chicken, he has been out of it. Nobody has mentioned it, so he thinks that maybe nobody noticed the way he shuffles quietly behind the other three, hands nuzzled deep in his outer. He pretends his huffs were for the cold and kicks invisible rocks to distract his own mind.

He made four chances at scoring just earlier, but none of them made it past the goalpost. And Jude is young enough to want to blame it on anyone else but him, but he is also mature enough to understand that it was nobody else’s fault but his own. The goalkeeper was always distracted, and there were no defenders trying to tackle the ball out of his feet. It was his muddled mind, he thinks, that the ball kept flying over the post.

He has been out of it, and the one to pull him out of being out of it is that cashier girl.

Nasally voice, weakly greeting them. It's her glasses that he notices first. They are big—definitely too big for her tiny face—with red frames taped up in the middle and on the sides. His eyes then travel to the bridge of her nose, and wouldn't you know it, the tip of her nose is tainted the same shade of scarlet.

He wonders why he finds it endearing: the way she holds back sniffles, the way she points out to the menu in exhalation. The more he examines her face, the more he sees her damp cheeks, her lips parting to make way for her breath, and the more is he drawn in. Strands of her hair keep falling even after she tugs them behind her ears, monotonically responding to his friend’s inquiries.

The back of Zakariya’s hand meets Jude chest, and he is taken out of his reverie, humming in agreement at whatever he had said.

“Guess we’ll do the party box, then?”

“Sure,” Jude’s murmurs blend in with the rest. He’s got no energy to go against Ethan. He’s there for the cheesebokki, anyway, and a chance of creating bountiful friendship with boys who are neither Jobe nor Jamal. Not chicken wings.

“‘lright then, the party box, one cheesebokki, and four can ‘o coke.”

She nods and pushes some buttons on the cashier, a loud and ancient machine that looks like someone’s prized possession that they would proudly reveal is older than him. For a moment, his gaze wanders to the fading football stickers—Ronaldo, Spurs, Real Madrid, Benzema, Marcelo—placed arbitrarily all over its body before going back to her.

“Which sauces would you like to go with?”

Honey mustard dip, sweet and sour sauce, and fire buffalo sauce.

Olivia cannot think of a combination more basic.

Teddy whips out his mother’s credit card in an instance, briefly telling the group to ping him their share of the money, and Zakariya complains about how he only has cash. Jude barely registers their banter.

They sit just far enough away from the lady and the boy dipping raw chicken to flour so that they wouldn’t hear their conversations, but close enough for the aroma of freshly fried chicken to wander out of the kitchen window and spike up his nose. He slides a chair out, a barrel of some sort with a wooden back nailed on to it.

Teddy takes the seat beside him. “You’ve been distracted, Judey.”

“I have,” as he sits, Jude looks back at the cashier. The girl is now at the counter, furiously holding back her bangs as she grips her pencil harder. “Think I should ask for her number?”

Teddy shrugs after a small laugh. Jude turns to him with an eyebrow raised. “Well, do whatever you want, but her dad’s a bit…”

“Evil,” Ethan interjects.

Zakariya scoffs. “‘Evil’s a bit of a big word ain’t it, E?”

Ethan grabs a pair of chopsticks Jude knows damn well he is not going to use, and fiddles with it, contending it against each other. “Well, he’s grumpy, that’s for sure.”

“My dad can be grumpy,” Jude insists, like he needs any of their permission. “Reckon her dad won't mind a nice young man like me asking for ‘er number.”

“Nice young man,” Ethan repeats, a little too mockingly to Jude’s liking. 

“Well, I am a nice young man.”

“You’re a young man, that’s what you are,” Zakariya laughs, piling on Ethan’s mockery and they bump shoulders in mischief cackles. Jude shoots them a glare.

“You know what? I say do it,” Teddy grazes his knee against Jude’s. Jude looks at him funny. “Just do it, bruv, take the shot. Ethan’s just bitter ‘cuz he tried talking to her too.”

“Yeah?” At the short smirk on Teddy’s lips, curiosity creeps up Jude’s nerves, eyeing Ethan across from him. Teddy had just officially graduated from being on his amicable list to his like list. “So you got her number?”

“Ha,” a cynical snicker leaves Ethan’s lips. “Obviously not. Her dad got between us.”

“Evil,” Jude repeats, and the rest of the boys nod.

“Evil.”

Mr. Paisley, Olivia’s homeroom, insists that there is no absolute truth in the world except the truths that are backed with numbers. He’s a mathematics teacher, so it makes sense. And to Olivia, one plus one is, definitely, equal to two. But the absolute truth does not interest her, now, does it? Truths, not-truths. None of these really matters in the long run. What matters is how she is going to mend relationships she would not want to mend; whether she will grow up to be more her mother or more her father.

The scrap papers she is scribbling maths equations on was picked up from the large trash bin behind the church her parents go to. She doesn’t go, she is not interested, but her mother would occasionally come home to gift her and Philip excess church brochures that they can use to count, or write, on.

It’s the little ways that they save money. The anxiety that comes with having none was brought down to the children, even when they were born after the years where money had been a problem. That’s just how her family is: rigid, stiff, stationary. It’s the same way she is gripping on her pencil, with the tip of her fingers beginning to hurt, her nail beds turning red against her skin, pale for not having eaten anything aside from three slices of canned peach since breakfast.

“Hey.”

But just like that, her endless stream of self-loathing, maths-loathing, church-brochures-loathing, and Mr. Paisley-loathing thoughts are over.

Olivia slants her eyes as she tries to gain a better look at the boy calling out to her behind her foggy glasses. He is a part of the academy group—the logo, she knows, and that there are no other customers in the restaurant aside from them.

“I’ll have another side,” he offers her a short grin, taking one hand from the pocket of his windbreaker to pick up the menu, “the nuggets.”

She clears her throat against her fist, nodding her head as she stands. “A moment please,” Olivia steps sideways to the cashier, already forgetting what he looks like. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose again. “Nuggets, you can get the sweet and sour sauce with it, or the barbeque for an extra Pound and a half.”

“A pound and a half?”

“Yeah.”

He lets out a chuckle. “I’ll just do the sweet and sour sauce. It’s better anyway, yeah?”

“I like it better,” Olivia entertains the banter with a light laugh, rubbing the tip of her nose. There is a deep silence between them just for a second. “That’ll be seven and a half, please.”

“You’re crying.”

Olivia’s head snaps up.

She sees him in great clarity this time. He didn’t speak much if at all when his crowd were ordering, and she had not cared enough to examine the boy who had paid for their food, moreover some shorter lad on the back of the group. But there he stands before her, voice light yet thick—though no thicker than her brother’s brummie as she notes.

“Pardon me?”

The situation is so jarring that Olivia cannot help but be offended, even when she knows that she has been crying—is crying, even. She sniffles and feels another tear roll down her cheek.

“Nevermind,” he shakes his head. She watches the way his nose scrunches when he notices the offence in her tone, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone with a battered case. “Can I have your number?”

“What?”

The busy-bee movements from the rest of the restaurant halt. From the corner of her room, she can see the group of boys holding their breaths, her brother doing the same thing too, and her mother staring daggers at her.

“Your phone number.”

“Like,” —

She hesitates, this time fully glancing to the kitchen window only to see her dad slanting his eyes, shooting glares at either her or at the Birmingham Academy boy, she cannot tell.

— “to order food from us?”

He shakes his head. “Like, to text you. If you wanna.”

“But… do you still want the nuggets?”

He laughs and places his phone on the counter, fishing for a wallet from a patch in his windbreaker. He places ten quid next to his phone. “Sure. Let’s get that number sorted out first, though.”

She grabs his phone, and a victorious smile appears on Jude’s face. His stupid plan—”plan”, loosely translating to: just going for the shot—works, and now he has a pretty girl typing her number into his phone.

His eyes dart to the multiple worksheets and eraser dust scattered next to the rugged down cashier, trying to ignore the growing commotion from the lads. “What are you working on?”

The girl huffs a bitter chuckle, her swollen eyes glancing up at him under her bangs for a moment. “Mathematics. Are you any good at it?”

He shakes his head. “The only thing I’m good at is football, Miss.”

She raises an eyebrow, a curious zest sparkling her eyes. “You're a football player?”

“Not yet, not officially,” Jude shrugs. He points to his academy logo on the chest of his windbreaker. “Birmingham F.C.”

“Birmingham academy?”

“Yup,” he nods. “One and only.”

She chuckles again, though he recognizes the lack of bitterness this time. “Y’must be pretty good then, huh?”

“I try my best.”

The muscles in her cheeks are begging for her to smile, but she knows that her father is watching, and she cannot show humiliating emotions before him, not after a bad fight. The tears were bad enough already. She is not going to let the giddy feeling when a boy flirts with her show on her face.

Bitterness bites even harder when she feels, hears, and notices Yujae shuffling closer to her. Olivia hopes she didn’t mess up her number, and returns the phone to the counter without even filling in her name, afraid that her father would grab it and toss it across the room. Or something dramatic like that.

“Haewon.”

She sighs. No one on this Earth calls Olivia by her Korean name. No one but her father. What is it with him and ruining every single thing she has going on in her life?

“Don’t chat with the customers?” He says—in Korean, Olivia guesses to intimidate the boy—though the tone of his voice makes it seem like he is more confused than anything else, and she wants to laugh; she can’t help but share the confusion. It really is not like her to talk to a boy, it’s not like her to talk to a boy who is a stranger, and it definitely is not like her to give out her number to a boy who is a stranger.

“I wasn’t chatting,” she knows that trying to defend herself will not result in the most ideal outcome in the taut stalemate, but the pettiness that runs in Yujae’s blood also lives in hers, so she does it anyway. “He was ordering some side dishes.”

“Is that it?”

She tries not paying attention to the boy as much this time, and punches the button on the cashiering system. She takes the tenner from the counter and places it in the cash drawer.

“What?” Her father hovers next to her when she doesn’t answer. “He asked for your number, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Olivia says, keeping her tone flat.

“And you gave it to him?”

“I did,” she frowns this time, glancing up at her father. “Why?”

“Why did you give him your number?”

“Why not?”

Yujae peers deep into her, like trying to gauge her weak spot, anything that would offer him some kind of reclamation over the disrespect she sends his way. He ends the eye contact with a scoff.

“You won’t get far in life with that mouth and that attitude.”

Olivia rolls her eyes and focuses back on the cashier, letting it print out the receipts after slamming close the cash drawer.

“I’m not trying to get anywhere far in life,” she mumbles, just as he walks away. Finally, she looks back at the boy, going back to English. “Here’s your change and receipt. Thanks.”

“Thanks,” Jude grabs his change and looks at the direction of the grumpy chef—Ethan is right. He does seem evil. He looks back at the girl, “I’ll text you tonight.”

She scoffs, and it looks like she is going to cry more now, but is trying hard to act nonchalant. “I’ll talk to you, then.”

He smiles, and is somewhat not bothered that she doesn’t return it. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Unknown Number: Hello?

Olivia’s face scrunches as she lay on her bed, before breaking into a smile.

The thinning mattress under her sinks in the middle. It had always been that way, and it’s generally more comfortable for her to lay on the edge of the bed. It’s closer to where her phone charger is too. And yet, though she can name a hundred reasons why the rundown house her family and her previously lived in was better than living on top of the restaurant, this—having her own, albeit very small, bedroom and not having to share with Philip—is definitely one of the good things about moving.

Me: hello?

Olivia used to take the top bunk while Philip, sleep tosser, brought earthquakes to her vocabulary.

Unknown Number: I’m the one who asked for your number earlier on today Unknown Number: Remember me?

She giggles to the back of her hand. Now, she doesn’t have to worry about suppressing laughter. There is no brother under her to judge her.

Me: yeah Me: birmingham academy? Unknown Number: That’s right Unknown Number: My name’s Jude by the way Unknown Number: Sorry for not introducing myself earlier Me: it’s calm Me: my name’s olivia Me: it’s nice to meet you, jude!! Unknown Number: It’s nice to meet you too! Unknown Number: Olivia is a pretty name

Rolling her eyes, she huffs through her smile, turning so that she is laying on her stomach, her chin propped on a pillow.

Me: i’ve been told Me: olivia jang Me: like the restaurant Unknown Number: So your father is Mister Jang? Me: more or less Me: he’s a bit scary Me: sorry for earlier Unknown Number: I’m Jude Bellingham Unknown Number: It’s fine Unknown Number: My dad’s a sergeant so I get it Unknown Number: I didn’t land you in trouble though did I? Me: ohh sergeant Me: your dad’s Sergeant Bellingham then Me: no it’s fine Jude Bellingham: More or less Jude Bellingham: Alright, good then

She breathes, going to type a random, stupid question to keep the small talk up but stops when she notices that he is typing. Only for him to stop as well. Bleh.

Me: sorry what were you typing? Me: i stopped typing cuz i saw you were typing Me: sorry Jude Bellingham: Wait yeah I did the same Jude Bellingham: Just wanted to ask which school you go to Jude Bellingham: Small talk, yknow?

She chuckles.

Me: i go to colebourne Me: stechford Jude Bellingham: Stechford is a bit of a walk from King’s Norton isn’t it? Me: well it isn’t like i walk 10 miles a day Jude Bellingham: Still, no? Me: used to live there, but my mum and dad decided to move to be nearer to the restaurant Me: now we live ON the restaurant Me: hahaha

She wonders if she talks too much.

She doesn’t usually speak to boys this way, no—so fluently, so unabashed. While she is open to befriending anyone and everyone, she just can’t find it within herself to open up to the opposite gender. Even with girls, she feels like she wouldn’t tell the history of her residency to someone she just met.

Jude, though, feels different.

It’s how they met, there is no doubt. Just a few hours ago she was made aware of his existence, and whether she wanted to or not, she was sobbing before him, all sniffly with her runny nose. And on top of that, her father had come to scold her. Jude had seen her struggle with school work, seen her cry, and seen her speak in a language she could not call mother tongue. All on the same day. All in the same five minutes.

Even to her girl friends, she had never conveyed such vulnerability. The peeling of her emotions are reserved for her father’s disowning gaze, her mother and brother’s ignorance, and the heedless minds of the restaurant’s patrons. Jude just became the first one to take a shot at cracking her open.

Jude Bellingham: Oh wow Jude Bellingham: Doesn’t it get tiring? Jude Bellingham: The commuting

She smiles, seeing the text, tossing from one side of her bed to the other.

Me: a bit but Me: just a few years left then i’ll be off to uni Me: then i’ll be commuting to uni instead haha

Jesus. That’s like—what?—the fourth time she’s sent three text bubbles in a row. She bites her lips and tries to justify her own excitement: well, it isn’t like he is economical with his replies either, though his syntax hints at being a bit rigid, he sends her the same amount of bubbles.

Olivia tosses again, to the other side of her body.

Jude Bellingham: Yeah? Jude Bellingham: How old are you? Me: i’m 15!! Me: n you?? Jude Bellingham: 14

A burst of light giggles escaping her lips.

Me: woooooow you’re like a little kid Jude Bellingham: Hahaha shut up

She bites her lips.

Me: btw Me: you got an insta jude? Jude Bellingham: I do!!

Olivia’s body awakens, shifting all its weight to her knees before flopping into a curl in the middle of her bed. Her fingers hover above her keyboards. Shit. she initiated, so she must be the one that asks first.

Me: wanna follow each other?

Groaning, she shuts her phone and flicks it two feet away from her, dramatically slapping both her palms—damp due to anxiety—against her face. Her phone dings as soon as it lands on the thinning bedcover.

Jude Bellingham: Sure!!!

Olivia plants her face into her pillow, lets out a muffled kind-of-bellow, before telling herself to get her act together.

Me: what's yours? Jude Bellingham: I’ve got a private one Jude Bellingham: It's jujudedebell

“jujudedebell,” she murmurs to herself, biting the inside of her cheeks.

Me: jujudedebell Me: 😂😂😂 Me: that's such a cute username Jude Bellingham: Hahaha Jude Bellingham: I gotta keep it lowkey, you know?

Olivia rolls her eyes and switches over to the Instagram app, typing the username into the search bar and requesting to follow the first account she sees.

Me: i requested to follow you!! Jude Bellingham: Alright!! Jude Bellingham: You're… viajangoli? 😂

Jude Bellingham: That's worse than mine Me: shut up!! Me: you should help me think of a better handle Jude Bellingham: I’ll let you know when something crosses my mind Jude Bellingham: Oh, miss Jang Jude Bellingham: You're popular huh?? Me: nooooo Me: i just meet a lot of people through internships and volunteering Me: i bet you'll be real popular soon too jude

Isn’t that how football careers usually go?

She bet he’s real popular even right now—proper, actual popular. He said that he’s got a private Instagram; she’s not even going to look up his public one.

Jude Bellingham: Yeah? Jude Bellingham: Also Jude Bellingham: Your most recent post Jude Bellingham: That’s in London ain’t it? Me: yes yes yes!! Me: went there last month for a school trip Me: best day of my life Me: been there? Jude Bellingham: Yeah with my family Jude Bellingham: Best day huh? Me: yeah Me: i wanna work there Jude Bellingham: Ohh Jude Bellingham: Going to London for school too? Me: my dad wont let me leave birmi for uni Me: but i want to work there Me: wbu Me: u got any dream job? Jude Bellingham: Well I’m a fan of this one football player Jude Bellingham: Zinedine Zidane Jude Bellingham: He’s my role model Jude Bellingham: He’s working for Real Madrid now Jude Bellingham: So maybe Real Madrid Jude Bellingham: Hahahaha

She raises an eyebrow at the football club.

Me: what’s so funny? Jude Bellingham: I don’t know Jude Bellingham: Real Madrid just seems so big Me: right now Me: we don’t know jude bellingham 10 years from now yeah? Jude Bellingham: You think it’s gonna take me 10 years to get into Real Madrid? Me: well if you believe in yourself Me: maybe five Me: or even three Me: or tomorrow Jude Bellingham: Tomorrow? 😂 Jude Bellingham: Lmao Me: idk Me: i don’t much about football but real madrid’s my brother favourite team Jude Bellingham: They are? Me: he’s crazy about marcelo or i don’t know Me: sorry lol Jude Bellingham: You’re good Jude Bellingham: How old is your brother? Me: he was born in 2005 Me: so like 12 Jude Bellingham: Oh, my brother’s the same age Me: oh you got a brother too? Jude Bellingham: Yeah, his name’s Jobe! Me: oh cute Me: jude and jobe Me: mine’s olivia and lip Me: from philip Jude Bellingham: Liv and Lip? Me: nobody really calls me liv Jude Bellingham: Well Jude Bellingham: I can be the first

Olivia shuts her phone. She spreads her arms wide on the bed, now laying in the middle, her back aching slightly as she stares up at the ceiling. Her mouth parts, letting the air circulate freely in and out her throat. After a while of trying to digest the odd feeling in her chest, letting it run down to her stomach where it hatches into butterflies, she raises her shaky hands to hold her phone over her face.

Me: mhmm Me: yeah sure you can

[rebeltigera]

I find v! Wukong and p! Macaque ship kinda funny because like, p! Mac is like two people in one body type situation right ( I might be wrong since I have goldfish brain) that means Mac affection for Wukong is so strong that LBD's hatred for Wukong is just gone

In a VERY short way to put it -

P!Mac is a fusion of both of em - But mainly in control is Mac. Well, whatever was left of him that is . P!Mac if fusion of whatever was left of them both after 1000 years of being sealed together by Wukong and the Pilgrims. THere are no 2 minds in one head, there is not 2 concious beings in this body, there's only one.

(LBD possessed Mac, they got stuck for a 1000 yr , they both were on the verge of dying , well it didn't work out , they got fused, bam you have P!Mac.)

P!Mac absolutely HATES his Wukong. His ex-mate, his King , his doom. That's not only LBD . SO , why not do a cleanup of the world and start from that simian? That's what happens in P!Mac's story in normal circumstances In Normal circumstances Mac DIE at the end of the story That is his destiny , that is my will, that is will of the universe. That's his canon. And P!Mac knows about it. He is accepting that fate.

...

And then V!Wukong appears .

and that's the only reason why P!Mac is alive n well.

(V!Wuk timelines are freaking great sksksks)

And it's not like P!Mac love V!Wuk (he wouldn't name it that way) . He is too mad. He find him useful- very risky, desireable , and the best way to keep V!Wukong around is not by doing him harm but to give him waht he want.

This man needed to die a couple of times just to prove he'd be USEFUL to P!Mac cuz the first time they met up P!mac almost died from his hand and he bolted the shit out of the place, away from him .

That is a guilty pleasure ship , don't judge

[tobbotobbs]

what about cod men with reader who BLASTS music like ayesha erotica, nikki minaj and etc randomly while chilling or has headphones and does that while on field

Ohhhh I think they would probably be all so confused or worried if it happened in the middle of a mission lol, here my thoughts to that scenario:

When Ghost heard you playing Nasty from Ayesha for the first time on the middle of interrogating someone they captured and kept alive on their mission, he was very irritated. Soap tried to get the new, right information out of the soldier meanwhile you two and Gaz stood in the darker corner, staring at the horrified man as you quietly sang the lines of the song playing over your headset.

,,Damn I'm sorry I blew you off, I was doing lunch with Microsoft. I'm sucking off a C.E.O, if he's not a millionaire then I've got to go~"

,,What the hell?! Y/n quit that singing! What even is that?", Ghost looked disgusted at you, questioning why he was even befriended with you in first place but quick to remember that you're actually his favorite person on earth, except for when you were listening to sich filth. In the middle of a mission. He quickly became used to it though, just told you once in a while to keep it down or put the music off if the operation was in need of your attention. He didn't enjoy the music as it was, the text too vulgar and flithy for his liking, but he couldn't deny that the melodies of some of your songs were quite catchy sometimes. Of course he grew even more annoyed when you and Gaz would play songs together on base and Soap would jump in on it with his ugly singing.

He didn't knew you were listening to that kind of music. He sometimes heard you playing some songs as loud as you could in your room, but he never understood a thing of what was sang and your door was always locked, as if to keep people out from seeing you dance some kind of risky dance to this music. Oh boy, if he knew.

Emo Boy was suddenly playing. It scared the shit out if Soap, Kyle and yourself even though it was your ringtone.

,,Oh shit! Sorry guys, Mama's calling. Don't wait for me with the movie!", you were smiling at them and quickly picking up and talking to your mum over the phone.

,,Was that-", ,,Emo Boy by Ayesha Erotica?", ,,Oh. My. God. I heard that right?!!?", ,,Yeah...I didn't know Y/n would listen to that type of music Soap!", ,,Me neither Gaz...it's a catchy song though", ,,Oh it really is. Probably why he chose it?", ,,Yeah...you think he's also into other songs of that genre?", ,,Maybe. Are you?", ,,Oh hell nuh. Not me, no no".

Gaz raises a brow at that and smirks. Then they both start laughing. ,,Oh you are so listening to this kind of music man!", ,,Pah, and if I am? You knew the song by name and artist by just a few seconds of melody playing!", ,,Ah yeah you got me there mate heh"

,,Alright guys, I'm back! Let's start this movie night shall we?", you grinned and sat next to Kyle again, who just smiled at you and nodded, reaching for the remote control. ,,Tell me, is that the music you alway listen and dance to in your room?", ,,Uhm yeah, whx Kyle?", ,,...Wanna show me one of those dances someday?", he grinned suggestively and you just giggled at that.

Oh this man showed you this tyoe of music, actually. He was playing some song from Doja Cat on the radio of the car from his so nicely called "Hype or Horn Me Up" playlist. You were confused at first. The words used in the songs were...interesting. And Soap was dancing and tapping to it like he was in some dance off. It was amusing and fun. Of course his taste in music wore off on you and so it surprised noone on the team when you were running past them on the field, gun in hand while looking as if you had the time of your life, the could hear for a short time the music blasting through your headphones as you went to go for the next kills.

,,I ain't tryna be cool like you hmmhmhmhmm", you sang while aiming to shoot an enemy, the new song coming on another Doja Cat favourite of you and soap. Hitting the target clean in the head you smirked. ,,I'm bitch. I'm a boss. I'm bitch, I'm a boss, I'm a shine like gloss!", ,,Oi yes you are Darlin!", Soap beamed from behind you. Price was just sighing and pinching his nosebridge while Ghost was just standing next to him like an annoyed older sibling.

You guys would play this type of music all around the base, 24/7. All week long. Until Price got so mad he made you do the dishes and gave you one month of cleaning duty. You did in fact not keep it down afterwards and everyone just had to live with it. Some of the younger recruits actually enjoyed it and envied you guys for that, made them feel less stressed and more relaxed.

Oh boy. Oh. Boy. He nearly died. First time you blasted that music on the car ride to some pub out of town because you guys all got some time off duty? He was thinking about how he could never go to heaven now, or even just into a church. He would perish just standing on the steps of a church. But then he remembered, he wasn't even religious. So that was fine. But then he thought "Why the fuck is this muppet listening to THAT?!!?!?". You currently sat in the driver's seat and danced to S.L.U.T by Bea Miller. Before that a song way worse was playing, Price recalled (it was I Want Your Bite by Cara Cunningham). This one now wasn't too bad. It was quite nice actually. Way more innocent than ghe other one. John was thankful for that, he grew very hot and was all flustered by the other song which made him feel a little uncomfortable.

,,Oh we're nearly there Cap!", ,,Y-Yes. Just...just put the car to a stop yeah?", ,,Whatever you say Captain!", you smiled while the next song came on. ,,Oh my god this one is so good!". Price looked over to you, awaiting something more innocent again like before. He thought wrong.

,,Ride it, slide it, bite, get inside it

Come on, touch my body

I know that you like it, you can't hide it

Come on touch my body

Hotter, bigger, faster, longer, thicker

Come on touch my body!", you sang loud and proud to the lines of Treat Me Like A Slut by Kim Petras. John officially was a tomato now. He loved seeing you having your fun, but this was surely and never will be his kind of music choice.

,,Treat Me Like A Slut, little dirty bitch I love to fuck!", ,,Okayyy I think it's- oh look there's the pub! Get us a good parking lot and then we'll have some fun kid, a'right?", ,,Yes!".

Poor guy always gets all red when he hears some of his boys play such music. And with Soap and you, and occasionally also Kyle, on his team that was a lot of times. But he wouldn't be too mad about it. Just sometimes id you played it too loud or while he was in an important meeting. He did enjoy seeing you all have your fun so he is not too strict with punishments.

You are playing some pretty filthy, nasty song in your shared house. Ale just came back from grocery shopping, Rudy in tow helping him with the bags. You were wearing just a shirt and boxers while singing to the song, looking through some magazines on the couch and just waiting for Alejandro to be back. He new of your guilty pleasure for those songs, this kind of music. He adored the way you would get all red sometimes when he talked about it to you, but he doesn't judge. He actually listens to songs like this as well. Obviously in spanish. He showed you some in his native language and you enjoyed them, even if you didn't know what was said.

Alejandro would laugh sometimes when you randomly put the music on while you were in a fight. It always made his mood go all the way up hearing and seeing you enjoy this music, especially if you would listen to the spanish ones he had shown you. For him it is no problem. He trusts you with being focused on missions so he allows you to listen to music, sometimes you even listen together over the radio.

The same goes for Rodolfo, but the poor guy would be worried sick if you would start blasting loud music on missions out of nowhere. Give the little guy a warning beforehand so he doesn't shoot you out of shock hehe. He also shows you songs in spanish, some that are not as filthy as yours but have the same kind of energy and he translates them for you.

Little german/austrian boy listens to filthy music himself. He is the biggest Rammstein fan there is. One of his favourite songs is probably Bück Dich (Bend Over) and Dicke Titten (Big Boobs/Big Tits). He also really enjoys Labyrinth by OOMPH! It's not really filthy with words but the meaning is pretty dirty. It's also a banger like, he was so happy you enjoyed listening to music with him. To that kind of music as well. He really wantes to visit a Rammstein concert with you someday, if you said yes.

He doesn't listen to music on the job though. And because he's your colonel he asked you kindly to not do it either. On the flight to wherever the mission was? Yes of course he will even listen with you to calm his nerves. At the base? Sometimes he even gets Horangi to join you guys, who really hates this kind of music because he heard too much of it in hia home country (he absolutely hates kpop and all the horny people coming with it).

When you showed him some of your favourite artists and they would sing too fast or use words he didn't understand, you would try to translate for him and the most funny german ever. He told you it was fine to try to explain in english but you really wanted to make him happy and maybe even laugh a little when you tried to explain that the person in the song just sang "Ich möchte in deinen Titten ertrinken" (I wanna drown on those tits/boobs of yours). He is so sweet if someone came up and would make fun of you listening to such music, like he would finally use his rank for once and make them regret for ever saying that to you.

[aris-ink]

Omg all of your works are so so good I’ve binge read them all😭😭😭 can I please request like an agedup!/ dilf!Namjoon with reader, dub/non-con? Daddy Joon just has me on my knees all day every day🧎🏽‍♀️

tysm I love you <3 and 👀

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: strangers to lovers, doctor!namjoon au

warnings: implied murder, mentions of anxiety and neglect, hints of (emotional) parental abuse, obsession, corruption, dub con, misconduct, inappropriate medical examinations lmao, age gap, daddy kink, praise, soft manipulation, psychological humiliation, multiple orgasms, risky sex, creampie, implied imprisonment/pet play at the end??? (up for interpretation ajdjdfjdh)

Namjoon always had a soft spot for strays. A keen eye, too. And you? You were but a little kitten in the body of a tigress. A kitten without an owner. Not one that knew how to care for you, anyway, and sometimes that was a fate far worse than one of an orphan.

He wasn't quite sure what it was about you that caught his eye. He has never felt anything towards any of his patients, politely ignoring any subtle attempts at flirting with him. But after your first visit, he decided right then and there that he was going to help you get better; in every way he could. Bring out that little kitten from hiding and give her shelter, where she wouldn't need to pretend to fit in with the predators to survive.

Because now, you had your very own predator watching your back.

He looked forward to your every visit, although it pained him to see you unwell. When he noted the slight tremble in your hands as you sat in his office, he started weighing the pros and cons of referring you to a psychiatrist. Did he want to see you wither away to nothing? No. Did he want to hand you over to someone else? Definitely not.

Tapping his pen against his lower lip, he lifted his eyes from the computer to your face.

So beautiful. So frail. Oh, he could crush you if his hands weren't careful. Maybe he should; maybe you needed to fall apart and be rebuilt again. What a shame. What an opportunity.

Shall we leave it up to fate?

Gently, Namjoon reached out to take your hand in his.

"Listen to me, sweetheart," he sighed. "You're not well, and I don't think there is much more I can do. I think you need to see a specialist."

You only blinked at him, looking so lost, your brows furrowed softly.

Namjoon gave your hand a squeeze, then released it to swivel around in his chair, facing his computer again.

"I'm going to write you a letter of referral, and then-"

"I don't-" you interrupted him, immediately avoiding his eyes. "I don't think I want to see a psychiatrist right now."

Ah. There we go.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side.

"I know it's a big decision, but you need help to get better."

You hesitated for a moment, laying your hands down in your lap. You fiddled with your skirt, and Namjoon had to physically restrain himself from letting his gaze wander down to the smooth skin of your legs.

"But..." You sighed, biting down on your lower lip. "Then..." Another sigh, like you couldn't quite figure out how to express yourself properly. "Can you help me?"

'Atta girl.

Namjoon took his glasses off and placed them on the desk beside him. He stayed quiet, watching you with dark eyes, waiting for you to wrap up your thoughts.

"I- I don't want to see anyone else right now," you managed. "It's hard enough to open up to one doctor."

His lips quirked. Check, mate. How perfect you were, building yourself a house of straws. How considerate for the wolf who wanted to devour you.

This was his cue to stick to his oath and do what was best for his patient. The only thing was that every patient's case differed; and he knew exactly what was best for you right now. What you lacked, what threw you off balance in the first place. Only he possessed the medicine that held the cure to all the aches of your soul.

He pretended to think it over, his eyes sincere as they stared into yours.

"Okay," he agreed, soft and quiet.

It was enough for a ghost of a smile to grace your face. His heartbeat picked up its pace.

"But," he continued, leaning down to grab a stethoscope from a plastic drawer, "I need you to work with me, okay? I want to see you get better."

You nodded instantly, your back straightening when he stood up from his chair.

"How about we start with a check up?" He suggested, placing a large hand on your shoulder. "Can you lie down for me?"

You relaxed beneath his touch, silently leaning back to sink into the leather bed. It was propped up, so you were really almost halfway to sitting up, but he gave you a warm smile, briefly moving his hand to rest atop your head.

"Good girl."

He noticed the deep inhale, the way you seemed to flush at the praise, and he had to busy himself with putting the stethoscope on in order not to barge into that little straw house and frighten you with his sharp teeth.

No. He'd claw at it, circle it, until you were curious enough to peek outside and consider what the beast had to say to you. And most importantly, what it had to offer.

He placed the cool end of the stethoscope on your chest. Your heartbeat instantly pulsed in his ears, loud, clear and fast. He looked down at you, sliding it an inch lower, his knuckles barely ghosting the swell of your breast.

A beautiful stutter in the rhythm followed.

"Are you uncomfortable?" He murmured.

You shook your head, your voice coming out soft when you answered.

"No."

"Nervous?"

You shook your head again.

Namjoon smiled at you.

"Good. There's no need to be."

He took the stethoscope off then and put it somewhere behind him, not paying it much more attention. Instead, he placed his hand on the crown of your head again, his thumb brushing over your temple.

"Do you get heart palpitations often?"

You stared up at him, those big, innocent eyes making it hard for him to remember that an entire world existed outside of you, outside of this room. Making him want to do bad things. Dip into that innocence and twist it inside out, just like you did to his soul.

"Sometimes," you replied quietly.

Namjoon hummed.

"Do you know how many physical conditions follow anxiety? Stress spreads like poison. Ignoring it is never a solution."

He noted the way his statement sank into you. Nothing he said was a lie; but how easily you accepted any words that fell from his mouth made his stomach tighten. Oh, he'd leave black handprints all over your pure, little soul. And he was okay with that. An eternal mark, proof of belonging to him.

You sighed. That made his heart tighten. Such a pitiful sound. How could he ever resist taking you into his care? Would a priest resist a sinner's confession? Never. It was a holy path, guiding people and helping them heal. You deserved the best of them all.

"That being said," Namjoon continued, "I'll ask you a few questions now, and press down on a few crucial places." He emphasized his point by putting some pressure onto his thumb, proceeding to massage your temple. "Is that okay with you?"

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

"Yes."

His thumb slid down the soft, warm skin of your face, tracing the apple of your cheeks.

"Are you still getting migraines, love?"

You shook your head. Namjoon placed his hand on your tummy, his thumb once again drawing comforting, mindless patterns into the cotton material of your shirt. You exhaled softly.

"How about nausea?" He asked, keeping his voice low and his eyes on yours. "Did that improve at all?"

"A... a little."

It was difficult to focus on anything but the way you responded to his touch. He was mesmerized by how flustered you seemed, but how pliant all at once. Laid down before him like a sacrificial lamb, your fate long accepted. Perhaps even cherished. A lamb longing to be slaughtered and handed straight into the hands of their god, looking for the slightest proof of his existence; even if it came in the form of death. Always, in the end, yearning for their father's warm embrace.

"That's good," he whispered.

Cautiously, he let his hand slip a little lower, his palm brushing over your abdomen before it settled at its very bottom. Your breath caught in your throat, yet you didn't move or look away from him.

"But... medication can only help so much. Same goes for relaxation. The best way to solve a problem is to focus on its root, don't you think?"

You nodded once more, and he felt content and intrigued at the same time, his free hand settling down on your knee.

"Then let's do that."

He could see the way your gaze flickered to his hand, tracing the veins over it before flicking back to his face.

He gave you a small squeeze of reassurance.

"College has been difficult, hasn't it? Not to mention... everything else. Have you tried to socialize a little more like I recommended?"

His question prompted you to sigh once more.

"Not really."

Namjoon let his hand shift a little higher, coming into contact with your inner thigh. The softness of your skin alone was enough to stir warmth inside his body; but the way your muscles tensed suddenly only added fuel to the fire, setting him ablaze.

"Why not?" He questioned. "Humans are social creatures. Conversation, a sense of belonging, and even-" his hand finally wrapped around the flesh of your thigh firmly, giving it a squeeze, "touch, can bring tremendous comfort."

You gasped, and the sound made him throb. Meekly, you turned your head to the side, looking away from him.

"It's hard to change."

Namjoon gave your thigh another squeeze, a gesture that could have been comforting, had his hand not been resting on the very inside of it, tips of his fingers brushing the skin under your skirt. Instead, it was rather inappropriate; but you were nowhere near close to pushing him away. And that was an invitation enough for him to lean in a little, his lips stopping just before they touched your ear.

"Change starts within."

You swallowed thickly, frozen in place. Enthralled or perhaps frightened. Beautiful all the same.

"How?" You whispered, like you weren't sure what he meant.

Namjoon pressed his fingers into your leg, slowly pulling it away from the other. His lips brushed over your ear this time, his answer coming out equally quiet.

"Let me show you."

He could feel the shiver that went through you; it quickly morphed into the smallest, softest whine when he rested his hand upon your clothed core. He expected the heat and he expected the wetness, but not this much. There was a clear, damp spot forming on the cotton, burning beneath his skin.

His knees felt weak, his fingers pressing into it automatically to rub slowly. He let out a strained, shallow breath into your ear.

"Oh, I think you really want to learn, hm?"

Your hand flew up to his coat, grabbing at his collar helplessly. Namjoon lowered his head further and placed his lips on your neck, pressing a hot, heavy kiss right into your pulse point.

"I'll teach you, baby."

Your back arched gently at the name, thighs spreading more to encourage his touch, let him defile you whatever way he wanted. Something slipped out of your lips as you pulled on his collar; something like a moan. A moan in the shape of a word that made his head snap up sharply.

It was almost a whisper. But there was no way he wouldn't have heard it; you were all he could hear, feel and see right now.

"What did you call me?"

Though his pace remained slow, his fingers began to rub your clit harder, the soaked material so flimsy he could practically feel you pulse under his touch.

He stared into your eyes, watching you struggle to catch your breath through his ministrations. It appeared to be even more difficult when he asked the question, embarrassment instantly shadowing your features.

Namjoon tsked.

"Come on, you can do it."

He dragged his fingers away from the spot he was massaging, only to slip them underneath your panties.

"Say it again."

Your hips jerked in surprise. The heat of your soaked folds, bare under his fingers, made his cock twitch in the tight confines of his pants. God, you felt so perfect; divine, really. He pressed the tip of his finger into your clit, trying to coax you, his strokes firm and lazy.

You moaned. It was a heavenly sound. No angel choir could have compared. As if on instinct, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.

"Daddy," it was shy and came with a shudder.

It was filthy and had him throbbing again, driving him to press his lips against your cheek as he touched you.

"Who hurt you, baby?"

The words came out soft, so unlike their actual mocking nature.

"A man takes advantage of you, and the first thing you can think of is spreading your legs and calling him daddy?"

The amused murmur went straight into your skin - and then deep, deep beneath it. He felt you grip his collar tighter, felt and heard the unsteady, shaky breath that fled you.

If you had been embarrassed before, you were mortified now, on the verge of crying. But he could also feel more slick gushing right out of you, and he sped up his movements on your clit slightly. His lips felt soft against your heated cheek, slow in making their way up to your ear.

"It's okay," he whispered. "That's a good girl. Show me where it hurts. I'll make it better."

A breathy, quiet moan was the only sound you were capable of producing. Namjoon let himself continue feeling and memorizing every inch of your skin he could, the bridge of his nose brushing your neck.

"Lemme fix it. Lemme fix you, sweetheart."

Your fingers dug into his shoulder, hips beginning to move in circles, mimicking his touch, following it straight into oblivion.

"Good girl," he repeated his praise in a quiet breath. "Gonna come for daddy?"

You pressed your face into his neck, whimpering into it. Your body answered for you, thighs trembling when it hit you, his fingers sticky and wet as they ceased their movements.

He didn't move his hand, though, kept it pressed against your cunt, even when a knock on the door made you jump.

"I'll be there soon," Namjoon called, ignoring your attempts at trying to close your legs and turn away from him. He grabbed your jaw and pressed his lips into yours, wasting no time in suffocating any protests and worries with a messy kiss.

With his forehead leaning against yours, he finally took his hands off you only to unzip himself. The sound startled you, your eyes popping open and shoulders stiffening.

He smiled at you, his dimples showing, as if he wasn't prying your legs apart to settle himself in between them.

"I- I-" you stammered nervously, shaking your head in protest.

Namjoon pressed into you, the tip of his hard cock rubbing right against your leaking entrance slowly.

"You what?" He breathed into your lips, dark, hungry eyes stuck on yours.

You mewled, fighting to keep your eyes open and your hips in place. How cute.

"You don't want to get better?"

You stared back at him, eyes hooded but brows furrowed, your chest heaving against his. The internal conflict was a lot, as was his cock twitching against your heat; but it was nothing you couldn't handle.

"Did you know?" Namjoon murmured. "When the soul gets sick, so does the body. Pretending all your life is gonna get you nowhere, baby."

The warmth of his hand burned into your hip as he pushed forward. The tip of his cock slipped into your tight heat, making your back arch beneath him. Namjoon's head fell into your neck, a low groan escaping his throat.

"I'll take care of you, I'll never leave you lonely or worried," he breathed into your skin, continuing to push forward agonizingly slowly. "You'll never... have to feel... that way again."

Each inch stretched you out so well, reaching deeper and deeper - until his hips were flush against yours and you felt like there wasn't enough air in the room.

Namjoon's harsh, hot breaths dotted your skin in goosebumps. He lifted his head to look up at you, entranced. Your eyes shone with unshed tears, mouth wide open, and he wondered if it was from the feeling of his cock inside you, or from his words. He wondered if your heart was also jumping out of your chest, desperate to get closer to his.

He got his answer when you tightened around him. His free hand travelled up your waist, hips pulling away only to slam back into you. Only one thought remained in his head. How divine you were, quivering beneath him and fighting to stay quiet. Right where you belonged; in his arms, at home. Where you didn't have to worry about obtaining money, acceptance or affection. You didn't even have to ask for it. You just had to take it.

He kept his pace steady, careful not to make too much noise, though it was hard with the way you were dripping and clenching around his cock. He tried to muffle the soft moans with another kiss, his tongue quick to slip past your lips. But it didn't do much to hide the wet, obscene sounds of him fucking you. He could feel his spine tingling, a veiny hand settling on your breast to knead it.

He knew there was no time. But considering the fact that his balls were already tightening, it wasn't going to be a problem. He broke the kiss, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips.

"Gotta be quick today, baby," he breathed, pressing two fingers into your clit to rub it harshly. "Yeah? Is that okay?"

The way your pussy squeezed his cock made his hips stutter. He released your breast to slap his hand over your mouth as you started coming, his head finding rest in your neck once more.

His moans were quiet, raspy, his cock pulsating inside you. With how big he was, it seemed there should have been nowhere for his cum to go, and yet he filled you up with every last drop until his eyes rolled back.

You still quivered around him when he stopped moving, trying to catch some air into his lungs. He lifted himself up slowly, releasing your mouth to stroke your cheek instead. You looked so perfect; dazed and exhausted, lips swollen, the tension completely gone from your body. Namjoon could feel it too; the glow in his chest, the euphoria running through his veins. He leaned it to place a gentler, lingering kiss on your lips.

"You did so well," he murmured lovingly. "Such a good girl."

With delicate fingers, he grasped the drenched cotton of your underwear and held it carefully as he slipped out of you. Even if he could make a mess in his office, the thought of you going home with his cum leaking out of you into your panties was enough to make him twitch. He breathed out a sigh, zipped himself up and helped you sit.

"Good?" He whispered, eyeing you intently.

You shied away from his gaze but nodded. Namjoon smiled, then turned to grab a piece of paper and a pen.

"Your next appointment is on Monday," he scribbled on the sheet as he talked to you. "This is my private number and address. In case you need anything."

You stared at him uncertainly. Namjoon cocked his head, the tone of his voice kind, though it didn't match the darkness in his eyes.

"My door's always open for you."

Slowly, you lifted your hand and accepted the small note, planting both of your feet onto the floor.

"But..." you fiddled with the sleeves of your blouse, eyes still bright with tears. "O... okay. Thank you."

With a nod and a subtle smile, Namjoon opened the door for you. The low hum of conversation and soft lights lighting up the corridor reminded him that he still hasn't finished his work for the day. But with the taste of you still on his lips, he didn't really care.

Through the window in his office, blurred by the streaks of rain hitting the glass, he watched you get into your father's car. He narrowed his eyes as he observed the man's scowl, like it was an awful inconvenience that he had to wait this long. Only this once, Namjoon could sympathize with him. He didn't like waiting either.

And yet it was what he had to do for the sake of your well-being. Good thing that for this very reason, he didn't mind killing your father slowly. Who'd know if he exchanged a couple of pills? No one but God, and he feared no judgement. Where was God when he put you into the hands of a neglectful, harmful parent? As far as Namjoon was concerned, God's sins outweighed his own.

He could see you buckling up, still dazed and tired, withdrawn from your surroundings. The car began to reverse, and slowly you disappeared from his sight altogether.

Poor, little kitten. Searching for sustenance and warmth. He didn't even need to ask you to keep quiet, or worry about whether you'd show up at his door. He knew you would. Somewhere in your bones, you so clearly felt it. It was time for you to heal; time to find you a new home. And he had a pretty collar with your name on it waiting for you under lock and key. A pretty golden ring as well.

Only the best for his little girl.

💌 taglist: @wonyuknow @baalsgurl1913 @glowunderthemoon @sweetempathprunetree @era-genius @bucketofhiros @imnotlauriane @httpsbts @silv3rswirls @iceprincessviviane @osakis-gf @kooktrash @dollseung

[askinkiskarma]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ᴠ - ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ᴋɪɴᴋ

pairing: neteyam x avatar!reader (part of the cardigan saga)

➽ a/n: it's neteyam and atan's world, and we're just living in it! hi besties and welcome to day 5, aka the day that almost killed me bc writing daddy!neteyam is actually much harder to me than i thought it could be. but i wanted so much to give this day to them, since they are my forever favourite pair from my forever favourite work of mine.

you don't have to have read cardigan for this to make sense, although it helps. i hope you enjoy, i've seen a lot of you besties reading cardigan recently and it's nice to know you wouldn't have had to wait as long for this prompt as my og readers, who i've promised this to for far too long hahahhaa my bad.

finally, this will continue in another (or two) kinktober prompts, so enjoyyy ;) x

➽ words: 1.7k words

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: anal fingering, p in v, pet names, hair pulling.

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

➽ na'vi compendium: atan - light, ma 'itan - son, kalin - sweet to the taste

“Come on, ma ‘itan. You have to let go of him at some point, you know?” Letting go of your son was harder on Neteyam than either of you ever envisioned. Well, not really. In truth, he’s always been a born father - loving, caring and attentive, he has been the unofficial parent of three kids ever since he reached puberty, and yet, it’s never made him bitter or deterred. On the contrary, it seemed that the birth of your son, the sweet Kalin, only made him more enthusiastic to put everything he’s learnt about parenthood to good use with his own family. Still, there were times, like right now, where you wanted to remember what it was like to be alone with your mate, the love of your life, the man who you’ve gone trough hell and back with. Solitude was a scarce resource right now, with a babe barely over a year old, but you were lucky to have a village full of people who were more than ready and willing to help babysit, and some who were more excited about it than others - like Neytiri.

“I’ve wanted to have this little one all to myself for so long, we’re going to have so much fun!” Her little coos were adorable and once more you couldn’t help be forever grateful for the person who’s been a mum to you for years now, who loved you and has done so ever since you were born. Although so different, you couldn’t help see your own mother in her, and you were reminded to pay her and your dad a visit at the Tree of Souls. It’s been a while. 

But for now…

“We won’t be too long. Thank you for doing this, sa’nok.” 

“We might be… a little long. Isn’t that so, Atan?”

You chuckled at the quiet desperation in his voice, and, with a roll of your eyes, you clicked in the direction of the tent’s entrance, wordlessly willing him out. This was going to be fun…

It was still risky, coming to the places that used to mean so much to you once, that you had to forsake when you moved to the Metkayina, that you got back once more once you returned home, but you couldn’t help yourselves. Not when these places, this place, in particular, has been one where so many memories, all shared between you two, were made, not when it still brings goosebumps on the surface of your skin, the thought of all you’ve lived through here, from learning how to swim and climb to conceiving your little bundle of joy that was safely back home. You never realised how much being a mother would mean to you - although it was always clear how much being a father meant to Neteyam. You’ve loved him all your life, but somehow never more than when taking care of your son, then when he showered you in love and affection, when he acted like the dad and partner you always knew he would be. 

“I miss this place so much every time we don’t visit for a few days. It’s like after all these years, and all these memories… it’s part of me. It always will be. And even now, I feel like a teenager, obsessed with you, desperate to look into your eyes, excited beyond belief at every glance or touch you send my way.” 

You couldn’t believe how even despite knowing each other since birth, being there for each other every day of your lives, your heart still galloped in your chest any time he spoke, and he still had so much power over you, power to take your breath away with words… and actions.

“Whatever you say… daddy.”

Neteyam turned around almost robotically, alert and frantic as he struggled to make eye contact with you in the least amount of time possible. You chucked at his demeanour, almost predatory, tail perked and unmoving, eyes wide and pupils even more so, swallowing the beautiful yellow of his irises whole. 

“What did you just call me?” 

You smirked and curved an eyebrow in his direction, enjoying the tingly feel that came with doing so, the goosebumps peppered on your skin after being conditioned to expect him to react to it, to unleash on you demons and urges that only you could swallow, only you could help quench. 

“Fuck.” A second later he was by you, and even after a few years in this body, his reflexes still amazed you, still took you by surprise. You gulped at the intensity in his gaze, a gulp that got stuck in your throat as soon as his fingers found your neck, as soon as they wrapped around it and squeezed in just the right way so you felt euphoric, so it felt like the beginning to a night to remember. 

“Atan, you have no idea what you started. But I’ll show you. Let daddy show you.”

His sultry words made your legs clench together, a desperate if futile attempt to cease the dew gathering in your beaded loincloth and seeping past the fabric onto the soft skin of your inner thighs. 

“Turn around.” 

It never took any effort on your part to wholly and relentlessly obey your mate. He loved control and for him, only him, you loved to give it up - you loved it when he manhandled you, his strong, muscular physique perfect for such a task, made to do exactly what he was doing now, spinning you in place and pushing you gently, but forcefully by your shoulder and lower back until you were on the ground, kneeling and waiting. 

“I’m gonna need this perfect little body on all fours, Atan.”

The ground felt moist and tender beneath your hands and knees, and you were so aware of every move, every breath, every fleeting touch of his nimble fingers on your body, slowly making his way from your neck, down your spine until he reached your hips, that he gripped with both his large hands, before giving a praising, appreciative murmur at the sight before him. 

“So, so beautiful. Look at you, spread open for me, making a mess before I even touched you. Daddy’s little slut.”

You nearly snickered at how quickly he adopted and adapted to the nickname, how natural it was, rolling off his tongue, how somehow, every time he said it, you got impossibly wetter, almost panting with the desire to be filled up with his cock, with his cum. You moaned softly when you heard him spit into his hands, and could only imagine the mouthwatering sight unfolding before you as he pumped himself, before plunging into the depths of the desire that would overcome you both. When he guided his rock-hard erection to the plush of your ass, gliding it effortlessly in between your asscheeks, over and over, all you wanted to do was scream for more. It felt wondrous and dirty, and you wanted it all, wanted him everywhere, all at once, all the time. Like the mindreader he always was, he spoke before you had a chance to voice your unrealistic feverous dreams.

“Let’s start with two fingers and work our way up, how’s that sound?” You appreciated him for his thoughtfulness always, but especially now, always ready and dutiful in making sure you were prepared, that your body was capable of taking him, of taking it the way he ended up wanting to give it to you.

“Words, Atan.” 

“Sounds go-good. So good.” 

“That’s right.” 

He was taunting you now, slapping the tip of his cock on your clit, dragging it against your folds before sliding into you with ease, while plunging two fingers into your puckered hole.

“Fu-uck! Fuck! Argh!”

The feeling was beyond comprehension,  beyond your wildest fantasies. It was always this good, always this mind-blowing and yet, you have never gotten used to it, never gotten used to the amalgamation of sensations and how they’d all accumulate to a night of orgasm after orgasm, until you were passed out on his cock, too tired to even mutter a tired I love you.

His hand was soft as it trailed up your body until it reached your braided hair, that he took into his fisted hand. When he tugged on it, as he slammed back into you, you cried out, moaning garbled attempts at his name. Your head pulled backwards as he used your hair to establish a brutal, ruthless pace of both his hips and fingers, and soon enough, you could feel your first orgasm as it approached, thunderous and violent and ready to take over you. 

“I can’t wait to be a dad again, I can’t wait to see your swollen belly and know you have made me the happiest man in the world every day of my life so far and will continue to do so 'til the day I die. I can’t wait to hold your hand when you bring our baby girl into the world.”

“But not tonight, Atan. Tonight, I want to ruin you. I need to ruin you. I need to watch my cum drip out of your every perfect little hole. Do you understand?” 

A meek nod is all you managed, the sensation too overwhelming to allow for any coherent, cohesive expression, the cried-out iteration of “yes, daddy. Yes, fuck, y-yes!” only audible in your head as you screamed it with all your internalised might. 

“Good girl. Come for daddy. I want to hear you, Atan.”

His words were enough to push you over the edge, and you came, vision blinded by the high, mind numbed by the way every nerve in your body felt electrified, alight with the pleasure that didn’t seem to want to cease, not even as you squirted on his cock as he continued to pump into you, the overstimulation enough to make tears fall down your cheeks and onto the ground. 

You didn’t have time to catch your breath, no time to gather any thoughts before he leaned onto your back, whispering seductively in your ear. 

“Ready for round two? You didn’t think I was done with you yet, huh?” 

taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @hadesbabygurl @linydoll @the-mourning-moon

(pls complete the form in the beginning of this post to be tagged)

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 9

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: none

Reader's vibe in general is very much "Mess With Me" - BXRRELL if you want a song (though maybe it will apply more to the next chapter). Should I make a list of songs I that inspire me for this?

Job Description

Pushing the unpleasant memories back into the depths from which they came, your priority turned to Killer. Finally, you had a proper med bay, or close enough. The cabinets and drawers held basic supplies. You found clean linens, much to your shock, and spent some time putting them on the stretchers so that they were ready when the time came. You made a space in one of the locking cabinets for your things. This would be your space for the duration of your stay. Curiously, much of the tools and meds appeared like they hadn't been used in a while, which either meant they hadn't been in a fight in that time or they were lacking someone who knew how to use them. You were betting the latter, bringing a frown to your face.

You went to the first mate's side, really looking at him while you had the chance. His face was angular and dotted with small, faint freckles. The skin of his forehead was slightly paler than the rest of his face since his bangs protected it from the sun. His lips had a deep cupid's bow and were somewhat thin. You lifted his eyelids to reveal bright blue, stunning eyes before letting them fall shut again, long, blond eyelashes resting on the tops of his cheeks. A small smirk settled on your face, feeling like you had forbidden knowledge in the form of Killer's handsome visage. It was very tempting to give him a little peck. He would never know. Maybe he needed one to wake up, a real life princess. He does owe me. Slowly you leaned down and hovered above his face. He smelled like salt and sweat, in a good way. The heat from his skin radiated to your cheeks, that or you were blushing. It had been so long since you kissed someone, not like with Kid, but a tender, loving kiss. It would be easy to pretend in this moment. A rumbling cough startled you. A burning feeling flooded your face as you straightened up and looked at Killer. Still asleep. Guilt washed over you. What is wrong with me? Sighing, you let your professional side take over. Putting yourself in front of Killer's injured thigh, you checked over your shoulder to make sure no one had come in. You removed the crude stitches that you initially put in. Lightly putting your fingertips to the ragged wound, a soft, warm, yellow light emanated from them. Tanned skin started to knit itself together slowly, until Killer's thigh was smooth. There was no evidence that an injury had been there aside from the still-damaged jeans that he wore. Moving to Killer's head, you did the same. Resting your hands on Killer's chest, first you tried not to think about how firm and warm his pecs felt, then you willed your power to heal his lungs. The soft glow from your hands seemed to radiate into him for a while before puttering out. It was hard to know if it had worked since you couldn't see into him. For it to work, you had to really want it. This situation in general made you uneasy, so healing a person with a high rank could be risky, but it could also be leverage. The conflict within you could be enough to buff your reparative power. The bigger the ask, the more strongly you had to feel about it. Your devil fruit was as versatile as your will, though you hadn't fully explored its potential. Who would have thought something good would have come from landing on that island?

A knock at the door made you jump. "Uh... yeah?"

Heat came in. He had a softer voice than most of the crew that you had heard. "How is he?"

"He's doing better. I don't know when he'll wake up though," you said, predicting Heat's next question. 

Heat made an affirmative grunt. "You didn't get breakfast. Are you hungry?" 

You blinked and your stomach growled. "I guess I was too focused on finding the least whore-like clothes to wear to be hungry." 

The blue-haired man chuckled. "Come with me." He waved you out the door and led you to the mess hall. It was just big enough to fit the crew, with long picnic-style tables. Then he took you through saloon doors to the kitchen in the back and grabbed a plate of leftovers. "So you're our doctor now." He said as more of a statement than a question while you shoveled food into your mouth.

Muffled through your food, "No, m'jus helfing the docker."

"We... don't have one." Heat looked away as if he realized maybe he shouldn't have told you that. 

You choked on your food a little, but you did sort of have a feeling that was the case. "Ur captain's a basfard," you accused, pointing your fork at him. 

"Better watch it. He's your captain, too." Heat chided. 

"Temporarily." You held Heat's gaze before finishing off the last bites and chugging a glass of water. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand, you got up and put your dishes in the sink. "Can I ask you a favor?" Heat raised his brow and you continued, "Would you take me to Killer's room? I want to get fresh clothes. His are crusty and ripped." 

Heat thought about it for a while and motioned for you to follow. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt." 

On the way to Killer's room, most people quickly ignored you when they noticed Heat. "Did you really come to ask if I got breakfast?" As it turned out, Killer's room was right next to Kid's. That seemed appropriate. 

Heat let you in and watched you from the doorframe with his arms crossed. "No," He paused to consider his next words, "the captain wanted me to make sure you weren't getting into trouble." 

You appreciated his honesty and it made you laugh. "If he was worried, he shouldn't have left me in a room with a thousand things I know how to kill someone with and his first-mate." Heat shifted in the doorway as you made your way to a small dresser. "That was a joke." It wasn't, but you didn't need Heat to report that back to Kid. Looking through his clothes was easy. One drawer had all jeans and one drawer had all the same shirt. The man likes routine. You grabbed one of each when a small corner of black fabric peeked out from under some shirts. Tugging it free, it was a black button down with big white polka dots. It looked much smaller than the other shirts. You held it up to Heat, "What's this?"

"Looks like Killer's old shirt." 

"Does that mean he doesn't wear it?"

"I think it's too small."

"So he won't mind if I take it." Anything to get out of these clothes. Heat was about to say something and you cut him off, "I'm taking it." Heat shrugged. He wasn't going to argue. Killer could do that when he woke up, if he wanted. You looked Heat over and pointed to his top. "Do you have one of those you don't wear anymore?" You had an idea. 

It turned out that he did. You took your new outfit back to the infirmary to drop it off and then headed down to the brig, only getting lost once, to see what the alleged "mess" was. The crew kept an eye on you, but didn't bother you. The brig was empty of people and was located in the back of the storage area which had rows of crates and barrels. It was very dark, but you could make out the shape that was Mini and her glaring eyes. "I know. I know. I'm sorry you had to be down here." The "mess" was what appeared to be a destroyed crate with several scraps of orange peel around it that had been left in her cell. That's on them. You easily found the lock to the door. Placing your hand over it, the soft, yellow glow came forth from your palm again. There was a soft click as the gate swung open. You went in and gave Mini a hug. Her neck was too big for your arms to encircle. Rough reddish hair poked at your skin as you breathed in her scent. She smelled like disturbed earth, tree sap, and freshly torn leaves. It was comforting to have something familiar. You sighed and released her to start piling up the wood fragments of the crate. Wait. You looked around. No one was there. You touched the pile and focused on the image of a whole crate. Why should you pick up all the pieces when you could put it back together with a touch? Because it makes me tired as fuck. You used your power a lot more today than you had before. One perk of being here seemed like more opportunity to practice, as long as no one saw. There was really no reason to keep it a secret, but you may as well while you were at it. It took a few minutes of focus and the pieces started to fit back together. Daffodil colored light bathed Mini while she finished off the orange peels. Guess I'll have to deal with a scurvy-riddled crew now, you thought as the rest of the crate came together. A loud huff exited you as you let your breath out. You were focusing so hard you didn't realize you were holding it. Dusting your hands off, you grinned. It was a little silly to be proud of putting a crate back together. You had to start somewhere though. 

Now, about sneaking a giant boar into the infirmary. It was plenty big for her to be in there with you. You didn't see a problem with it. And anyone who did could try their best to move her. Knowing how stubborn she was, you laughed to yourself. She thought the same of you, you were sure. Was it better to sneak slowly through the halls or to barrel through and hope for the best? Well one of them sounded way more fun and someone was gonna see either way. No. No. I have to be low profile. With your luck, you would probably run straight into Eustass Kid himself. 

Miraculously, most everyone was in the mess for lunch. Out of the corner of someone's eye, Mini probably looked like Kid. Her fur was similar in color to his coat and her size was certainly comparable. She did have a hard time squeezing through the infirmary doorway, though made it without breaking the frame. Killer still wasn't awake. You looked around the infirmary some more. There was a few fold-down bunks attached to the wall, extra space in case the stretchers were all taken. You unfolded the top one, making it up so you could use it for yourself. That way, Minerva could curl up below you.

There was also a small bathroom with a shower, a far cry from Kid's luxurious space. It was clean and had some personal hygiene products within. You grabbed some along with a basin and filled it with hot water. For the second time since knowing the man, you stripped Killer. Oh how you wished it was under different circumstances. Grabbing a washcloth you got it wet and put some soap on it to clean Killer up. After all, no one wanted to wake up dirty and he still had some sand clinging to his tan skin. It took a bit of time to get him as clean as he was going to get without a real shower or bath. When you were done, you got a new basin of water. You dipped Killer's hair into it and placed it right below his hair to catch the drips. Taking shampoo, you worked it into his scalp and down the lengths of his hair, untangling as you went. You squeezed as much out as you could before rinsing the rest of the soap out. Then you repeated the process with conditioner and towel dried his blond locks. It was not easy to wrestle clothes back on to him and by the time you were done, his hair was mostly dry. Selfishly, you really wanted to wash it so that you could touch it some more. It was so pretty and soft. You spent an embarrassing amount of time braiding it until it was perfect, definitely just to keep it from tangling again and not for your own entertainment. You didn't have anything else to do. Or maybe you did, but until Kid expressly told you to do something, you weren't going to take it upon yourself to do chores.

A tall shadow appeared outside the door, knocking with purpose. 

"If Kid sent you to check on me, I'm fucking busy. Tell him to- tell him Killer is fine and I'm straightening up in here." You were going to say "tell him to fuck off" but that would mean a raging bull stomping into your space within minutes. 

The shadow made some kind of mumble and left. 

The next day went by, you kept to yourself, eating after everyone else had and retreating to the med bay. Heat had come by and you asked him for another favor. Later that day, you re-painted Killer's nails. Essentially you were having a slumber party with him and he was the only one sleeping, getting his hair braided, and his nails painted, though you did paint yours later, too, out of boredom. There were a few medical texts you occupied yourself with reading since you had never been formally trained, just some field experience. You fell asleep with one of them in your hands, leaned back against Mini, who you had been smuggling leftovers to throughout the day. 

Next

[lyramundana]

Hello, I'm back again hope you're doing great

So I've been thinking about yandere! Alpha minsung x sub! Omega! fem! Reader we'll if you're comfortable with abo of course.

Well and to spice it up what if some stupid alpha dared to try to mark her.

If ur not comfortable with this please ignore it and love u 😘

----🦋anon----

Hello there! I'm happy to see you here again. And don't worry, there's not much content that can make me feel uncomfortable, so feel free to share your most twisted, unhinged thoughts here. If I see an ask I don't feel like doing it, I'll still make sure to reply.

Omegaverse x Minsung throuple?? FUCK YES. This sounds so freaking delicious. Here you go~

ALPHA! MINSUNG X OMEGA! FEM! READER

WARNING❗ Hints of non-con at the end. Proceed accordingly if this topic is sensitive for you.

It's common knowledge that two alphas don't usually mate with each other. Not only because of the biological traits that prevents them from doing so, but also because they tend to be too territorial and dominant for a relationship to work. However, as rare as it is, there are cases of alphas falling for one another and somehow building a functional committed relationship. Han Jisung and Lee Minho were one of these few cases. Their instincts showed on their first meeting, a pair of alphas trying to one up the other constantly and even getting physical more often than not. However, the more they fought and tried to dominate the other, the more they felt it was less about pride and more about just having contact with the other. Because there's another well-known fact about alphas, and it's that they tend to have the thickest, most intense sexual tension ever. It was specially obvious with these two, to the point they made everyone around them uncomfortable with their displays. Of course, didn't surprise anyone that they ended giving in their urges and fucking like animals during a common friend's party. Eventually, they became a power, intimidating couple no one dares to mess with.

Jisung wasn't the typical alpha, fitting more in the traits of an omega sometimes and letting Minho pamper him like one, but those close to him knew the boy owned up to his rank by every word. Minho was usually the one in charge, but it didn't stop them from still fighting for the dominance from time to time. They were also terribly possessive over each other. An alpha is already territorial by nature, so one can guess the chaos two of them can bring. Minho had beat people almost to death for getting too close to his Sungie. Jisung knows how to use his pheromones to force people to submit to him and then punish them like he wants for daring to touch his mate.

But as happy as they were together, they couldn't stop feeling something was missing. Like the last piece for a puzzle to fit. It frustrated them to no end, not being able to be completely content with what they had. They tried all they knew to find out what it was, to no end.

Until they came across the sweetest, most alluring and mouth-watering scent ever since meeting each other. Her. An Omega. Their omega.

Then it all makes sense finally. That's the missing piece. She was what they've been looking for all this time. What their hearts had been crying out for. When she's with them, they feel complete and at ease, and they share a silent agreement.

They can't let her go. She belongs to them.

Their first instinct is to simply take her as she is, their wolves growling in their heads to claim her already and tie her to their sides, but their logical sides tell them to wait. They need to be cool-headed about this. After all, one risky move and they could scare her off, and they don't want to force to come (but they don't mind to if it comes to it). No, instead, they play the long game, wooing her carefully and slowly getting her trust. She's so perfect for them, so precious. They have the perfect plan to claim her forever.

When she hits her heat, it's completely unexpected and particularly strong. She had been taking her medication for it and, according to her phone calendary, it shouldn't have arrived until some weeks later so she doesn't understand what happened (she couldn't know her new "friends" replaced her pills and changed the calendary on purpose). She's now sweating in her bed, curling in ball in her underwear because she feels fire underneath her skin, her insides ache and throb in feral need, and the world around her seems blurry, confusing. There's only one thing that can calm her down, and what a coincidence, her alpha friends just passed by to "visit her" and sensed the smell, the delicious calling of an omega in heat. Their omega, who needs them to help, to relieve her from this pain. The omega tries to fight it at first, knowing she's not on her right mind, but her instincts betray her and surrender to the alphas looming over her like predators about to devour their prey. And that's probably the best way to describe them.

Minho's plan was to wait out until she begged for them, but Jisung was losing his mind with the smell that reeked the entire place. The younger just wanted to jump on her already and claim what was theirs, and Minho was struggling to remain in control of himself too. In the end, the frustration for having waited so long and the omega's arousal was messing with their senses, and so they gave in what they've been craving since they met her.

It was messy, rough and animalistic. Their feral instincts took over them and they made sure each trace of her skin was covered in their scent. They kissed, gropped, bruised, marked every piece of her body they pleased. By the end of it, she was shaking in their hold, overstimulated, cum running through her skin. The only thing that prevented them from cumming inside was that they wanted her to ask for it. They wanted her to beg for their seed.

When her heat passes and she realizes what went on, she feels a mix of emotions. She's certainly scared for her future now, for what it means for her now she's been mated by not one, but two alphas. She's flustered because she enjoyed it a lot and loved the way they brought her to release. She's angry at them for going along with it despite knowing she wasn't in the best state of mind, but they explain that they simply wanted to help, since they know an omega's heat can be painful without a partner. Also, they were affected by the heat too and weren't fully conscious of their actions. Really, they didn't have ill-intentions. How could they, when they clearly care so much about her and have been her loyal friends for a long time? The omega ends up giving in their sweet words and gestures, swayed by their tactics, and not seeing the way their grins seemed more twisted.

Because now they've mated her, there's only one step left. She's already his, their propietry. They just need to find the right time.

Right after that event, their relationship takes a shift. She doesn't feel entirely comfortable with them after what happened, no matter how much pleasure they brought her, but can't bring herself to cut ties with them. They notice her distance and slightly panic. Jisung proposes to take her already before she strays away at once, but Minho calms him down and says she's uncapable of leaving them now. She's on step in their claws, and if they play their cards right, she'll come to them willingly. In the meantime, they force themselves to endure the "only friends" status and swallow the poison that threatens to choke them in their tongue when she's being close to others.

It's not that surprising seeing other alphas infatuated by her. They understand it, she's a gorgeous being and the world should be put to her feet, but it doesn't ease the boiling rage they feel when they see some of these unworthy assholes staring at her too much or trying their luck with her. They've beated and almost killed some of them for this. Alpha are terribly territorial and they can't stand the slighest glint of competence..

Since she doesn't have any claim marks, she's considered single and so other alphas flirt with her openly. She finds a liking to one of them, a friendly alpha that treats her with a softness she's not really familiarized with. She walks around with his smell on her, and MinSung see red. But the breaking point comes when they find out the guy almost marked her. He tried to claim her as his own, to steal her away. And that's when the boys say "fuck the waiting".

Omega is confused at why her love interest stopped talking to her, and dissapeared from the face of earth all of sudden, but she doesn't have time to question further before a pair of furious alpha storm in her house. The powerful, heavy grip of their pheromones makes her limbs useless against her will and her body becomes jelly under their vicious hold. They're frustrated for the lack of so desired intimacy, veins hyped with adrenaline for the recent blood in their hands, and pissed off by her bratty behaviour. How dare she let another alpha touch her like that? How the fuck could she allow herself to be claimed by another? Doesn't she understand her body belongs to them? She's their mate, her place is by their side, carrying their pups and pleasing them. Didn't they make that clear when they fucked her back then?

Omega realizes too late that her worst suspicions were true: That they took advantage of her heat and they were fully conscious of what they were doing. But it's too late.

They scent her the same way they did during their first time, and her head already feels fuzzy with the familiar smells that bring back those hot memories. Her body is slowly falling under the spell of their strong pheromones combined, and she grows more compliant the more she remains in their arms. Her clothes are tore off her body, leaving her completely exposed for theri greedy hands. There's already a patch of wetness running through her inner thighs, and she tries to supress a moan when she feels a warm tongue lick down those traces. The remnants of her logical side try to fight it off, but they're stronger and she's been frustrated too. When one of them slips his dick inside wet cunt in one go, she loses herself. Mind blank, her body only following their wishes.

When it's over, she comes back to her senses with their mixed cums inside her...and two claiming bites in her shoulder and neck, chaining to them forever.

Now she's truly under their mercy and no amount of fighting can break off the power of these bites. She's finally theirs to have, to worship, to adore, to breed.

[callsign-rogueone]

I don't know if I'm the only one wondering, but I wanted to know what you think about it in your girlfriendverse or in canon.

How do dragons handle childbirth? Since riders and dragons can sense each other's feelings and pain, I wonder what they think or how they react to the whole pregnancy and childbirth thing, because no offense, but I doubt you can block your dragon properly while you give birth to a human being.

Thank you in advance and btw, I love the way you think.🩵

Take care, beautiful.✨️

ooh interesting. I hadn’t thought about that before! we need Aimsir to call in since he’s been through this three times with Lilith lol

naturally, this question raises several more questions for me about the magic system 😅

I’d imagine that if at all possible, you should have a mender on standby to block the pain, to fix you up in case of emergency, and help you recover physically afterward. but when Brennan says he “blocks” someone’s pain, it sounds like he’s just stopping them from feeling it, and not taking it away or stopping the physiological process of it, so can the dragon still sense it?

and re: dragon and rider being able to “feel” each other’s pain… does the dragon actually feel the human’s pain at the same level / location, like it’s happening to them? or is it more of a “something is very wrong with your human, go save them!” impending-doom feeling?

I think it’s implied that the dragon is better at blocking out the rider, since they’re the ones who have the magic, they’re just sharing it with their human, and they’re older and have more practice using shields etc. so they’d likely be able to muffle the pain, at least, but I imagine it would still be distressing to feel the pain + be worried about the rider dying in the process, since this is a fantasy world without modern medicine, and even for us these days, it’s still risky.

I have so many questions about the level of medical tech in FW… I don’t know how much prenatal care and tracking they can do. I imagine that it’s always a surprise if you’re having a boy or a girl, and you don’t really know much about the baby’s health until they’re born.

also… imagine how much more protective your dragon would be if you’re expecting 🥺

they reproduce differently than us but they still understand — my human is making a tiny new human inside themself. this is a long, delicate process for them and they must be protected at all costs!

Cosa and Cath are not letting anyone “suspicious” get close to Love. Dain gets a pass obviously, and so do Brennan, Duchess, Darling, and Bodhi, since that’s her inner circle. the other marked ones are thoroughly sniffed and watched closely to check their vibes, but any fliers or non-Tyrrish better back the fuck up. Cosa is gonna be extra careful on flights (a little seat belt, like Tairn did for Vi at first) and maybe even reduce the strength of Love’s signet a little bit so she doesn’t strain herself.

and heaven help everyone when Duchess has her babies. the entire riot is going to be guarding her, and even Brennan isn’t safe. she’d have to reassure some of them that he’s her mate / the father of her child, and he’s not going to hurt her. and if she had to be on bed rest, Marbh would absolutely snitch to Brennan if she tried to climb up the hill to see the riot.

“I love the way you think” is the compliment of the century. I spend way too long on ask answers and I usually cut them down about 50% every time, believe it or not. it’s a jungle in here. but I’m glad it makes sense to people lol

love ya! stay hydrated 💗