#at least I can pretty much drawing either of them on command now

[alksnd]

I didn’t end up making it that much longer so I’m just posting the full comic as one big post! This was really fun to draw 😭🤲💕 I love them sm

[lilyrizzy]

continuation of this silly little fic...have more silly maxiel hunger games au fic bc I recently read the new book and got obsessed again, oops. cw: everything you'd expect with a hunger games au, death, torture & forced prostitution mentions.

Alex stares down at his meal. Lumpy porridge sprinkled with what District Thirteen likes to call ‘nutritional powder,’ orange juice, and an apple that looks far too green to have been grown underground. In three weeks, he hasn’t seen sunshine, real or otherwise.

“You aren’t going to get anything else,” George reminds him, and in front of where he’s shovelling food into his mouth at an alarming pace, his tray is already three-quarters empty. Gone is the good boy routine, vanished along with the Capitol cameras the moment Charles blew up the dome sky of the arena with a good shot and the reel of wire Seb spent all games carrying around.

Alex hasn’t seen either of them since that moment, Charles dead the moment the sky lit up, and Seb still in District Thirteen’s medical wing. There are rumours he’ll never walk again.

Max, who fought off the Capitol mutts in an attempt to keep the rest of them alive that night is their only other living ally. Right now he’s sat at the next table alone, his food tray also full. He’s drawing patterns in the sludge with his spoon, and mumbling to himself the way he used to, in the games. Talking to ghosts, or talking to his- To Daniel, maybe. By now, that probably means the same thing.

“Are you going to-“ George interrupts his thoughts, gesturing to Alex’s tray. He shoves it towards him, standing as he does.

“Go wild, Georgie,” he half mutters, meaning to walk back to his room, or to Toto’s to beg for something, anything to do to help him stop thinking.

Instead, he finds himself standing over Max, only with no real plan of what to say. Hello, I’m sorry your boyfriend is probably dead, but so is my girlfriend. Want to talk rebellion strategy? Yeah, right. Alex has a feeling that Max is as much an unwilling participant in this uprising as he is, or at the very least an accidental one.

You fucking promised me, you- You swore he’d be okay, that you’d protect him, you promised.

Alex had watched Max howl it all at Horner in the hovercraft as it took them thousands of miles away from the remains of the arena. Right before Max punched Horner in the face and ended up sedated for the remainder of the journey. The yellow-orange traces of the shiner Max gave him still give Alex a strange sense of satisfaction to see every time Horner calls him to the command room to ask him to star in more propaganda videos.

“Hi,” is all he says to Max now, shifting from foot to foot in front of him, as Max continues to mumble into his food.

“I’d need a gun for that, or at least a knife. Of course, these are too blunt, and-“

“Max,” Alex tries again, and that gets his head snapping up, as though woken from a trance. His eyes dart around before settling all the way on Alex.

“Oh,” he says like he’s assessing a threat and finding there to be none, “it’s you. What do you want, twelve?”

In the arena, Max had called him Alex. Maybe, like George’s gentlemen act, it had been something designed to please the cameras, or more likely, to forge allies. Allies they apparently needed to get this show on the road. Toto had explained this to him, that it was important to have as many districts as possible represented in the uprising victors. That way, their homes would have a reason to believe that they too can rebel.

“Nothing,” Alex says hastily, putting up his hands. “Nothing, I- I wondered if you wanted some company.”

Max glances from Alex to the side, where he can no doubt see George still filling his belly with Alex’s unfinished meal.

“Pretty boy is winding you up already?” Max asks, something almost teasing on his lips.

Alex flushes. There was no way Max could know about the night before, George’s warm body slipping into his bed, and his warmer hands finding Alex’s skin under the scratchy, military issue blankets. Clinging onto each other, the only piece of home they’d likely see again. Except, maybe Max can know all about it, maybe that was how he’d found his way to Daniel.

Max raises his eyebrows, and Alex choses to believe he’s just expecting an answer rather than recognising Alex's guilt. Even though Lily was likely killed right after his unconscious body was airlifted from the arena as a warning to any who sympathises or dares to love a rebel, there was still a small voice in him that warned that if she had survived, he would always have betrayed her.

“A little,” he says, half the truth and half a total lie. If he didn’t have George, he’d be like Max. Alone, and half mad.

Max smirks, but gestures to the bench opposite him. Alex sits, trying to think of something else to say.

“What, uh. What are you talking about?” It’s all he can come up with, and internally he groans. He doesn’t need to get roped into Max’s crazy. He cocks his head at Alex, like he doesn’t know what he is talking about, only affirming Alex’s belief that he's securely in cuckoo land, but it’s too late to go back now. “The guns, or the- The knife?”

“Oh,” Max says, nodding like this is perfectly sane. “I am trying to think of some way to the Capitol.”

“The Capitol?” Alex repeats, dumbfounded, because that is where they’ve just been rescued from. But- Realisation dawns on him, slow and then all at once, like the sun he used to get to see every morning.

“It’s where Daniel will be, probably,” Max confirms.

Alex tries to nod earnestly like this isn’t the worst idea he’s ever heard.

“Of course, Christian promises me that they are going to rescue them, but only when it is safe,” Max is continuing, hands suddenly animated in front of him. It’s the liveliest Alex has seen him since the games. “I cannot wait until it is safe, because what if it never is? What if they are- I can’t leave him there. I need to get to him.”

Alex tries to listen, but his brain stalls on one word, making the rest almost obsolete.

Them.

“Who else are the Capitol holding?” He asks, knowing as he does that the spark of hope Max’s answer lights might be the thing to tip him over the deep end too. Max’s answering look tells Alex that he thinks his question is very stupid.

“Well,” he says with a bitter laugh, “I did not exactly get the list, but I would imagine it includes yours and Georgie’s families-“ He waves his spoon in George’s direction- “along with maybe the rest of the victors. Your girlfriend, your childhood best friend. Fuck, maybe someone you sat next to in math class, Alex. Anyone they think they can use against you.”

Alex's head begins to spin. Of all the propaganda videos from the Capitol that had made their way to them here in Thirteen, Daniel and Lily hadn’t been mentioned or seen once. Alex had assumed this meant they were long gone, but what if they were only waiting for the right time to reveal their captives? Max is right, after all, they’d be more use to the Capitol alive. As bait, or maybe just to torture them with the idea of ‘what if.’

He thinks back to Daniel’s screams in the arena, calling for Max over and over to help him. Max curled on the ground like a child, his fingers stuffed into his ears.

“What about your family?” Alex asks, stomach turning at the thought of how much blood he would have on his hands at the end of all this. “What-“

“Daniel is my family,” Max interrupts him bluntly. Then, maybe because he senses the cold coil of fear his words help to settle in Alex’s stomach, he continues. “I had a sister when this all- But I told her to run. She had two small babies, and I couldn’t- There was nothing I could do to protect them if they stayed.”

Alex’s eyes widen. Running was almost unheard of. Growing up, he’d only known two people to try it, the wife and child of a rebel who had been hanged the day before. Peacekeepers put a round of bullets into their bodies just five miles past the fence.

“Did they-“ He asks, and Max shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I like to think that because I never heard, it means-“ He shrugs.

Alex would want to think that as well, but the chances of Max’s sister running around the wilderness of Panem with two little kids, not only undetected but thriving, is- It’s hard to believe. To be kind, he nods like it’s not.

“I wish I’d told Lily to run,” he practically whispers because even though he doesn’t think she’d have made it either, it would likely be a quicker death than whatever the Capitol have in store for her now. Like Max, he doesn’t have much faith in Horner’s plans to rescue whoever they may still have, and unlike Max, there’s no way he has faith in himself either to make up for that shortcoming.

Max nods, his mouth a wonky line that in any other circumstances might be considered a smile. He reaches across the table and shocks Alex by touching his shoulder gently.

“If I make it there, to Daniel-“ He looks to the side, like his mind is still halfway elsewhere, formulating his plan- “I promise I will look for her, also.”

Alex closes his eyes, startled by the sudden compassion in Max’s voice.

“Thank you,” he whispers, but to be honest, Max’s words do very little to bring him any comfort.

Toto had made Alex promises too, like Horner to Max. It seemed this war was built upon the breaking of them.

—

“Tell me something about Daniel.”

Max looks up at Alex from where he’d been staring down at the same photograph Alex has seen stuck on his bunkroom wall. Something he must have grabbed when the bombing siren started to sound, before they all filed down into the shelter. In it, Alex can see Daniel’s curly hair, his well fitted suit. A Capitol propaganda photo, likely, that Max had swipped from some magazine.

The moment Horner and Toto called them into the control room to detail their scheme- sneak a craft out during the next air strike on Thirteen, when the Capitol is distracted to retrieve the hostages- the fight Alex was used to seeing in Max had almost completely diminished. Looking at him now, he looks- Well, a little pathetic.

Come on, Max, he thinks but doesn’t say, weren’t you supposed to be some bloody murderer?

Max is the deadliest victor in Panem’s history, a reputation that had followed him into his post-games life as a victor. Seb had told Alex stories in the arena, of how the people of the Capitol requested for Max to sit in cages at the edges of their dinner parties, the ultimate display of power.

“Why?” Is all that same man asks now, and it’s as if he’s too weak to even seem guarded anymore.

Alex sits down on the bed beside him. Around them, the metal frames shake, clanging together in the dimly lit bunker. Dust and dirt fall from the ceiling. Maybe the mission will succeed, only for Daniel and Lily to arrive at District 13 and find them all dead and buried under rubble.

“Because it seems like a better plan than waiting in miserable silence?” Alex offers, tucking his legs up to rest his chin on his knees. “Come on,” he prompts, when Max still seems hesitant, “there must be one thing you love about him that you’re not too stoic to share.”

Max laughs, despite their situation, and mouthes the word, stoic, shaking his head a little. Then-

“Everybody loves his big smile,” Max offers, finger tracing over the shape of Daniel’s lips on the photo, “the tributes we would mentor, the other victors. The people of the Capitol, who paid enough to have it, and much more, thrown in their direction, but- But I like it better when it is smaller. Softer. Just-”

Just for you, Alex thinks, but Max doesn’t finish his sentence.

“What about you?” He asks instead, offering Alex a small smile of his own, “What makes Lily so special?”

Alex laughs, because what doesn’t make her special?

“She’s like, the smartest person ever,” he says, because throughout all this he has wondered over and over what she would do in his place, and tried to follow that course of action. “I keep thinking how she’d have the Districts liberated by now if she was here.”

Max nods, lips quirking upwards again.

“Let’s hope she makes it then,” is all he offers, eyes back on his picture. It’s then Alex notices the expression Daniel is wearing, the soft smile Max was talking about. Maybe not a Capitol promo photo after all.

“Did you two-“ He starts, but stops himself, aware he is treading on shaky ground now. Another explosion sounds somewhere above ground, with the vibration taking a few beats longer to travel to them. Somewhere near them, a baby begins to wail, as the ground both above and beneath their feet trembles.

“Did we what?” Max asks, looking at Alex again.

“Did you, uh. Did you fall in love before or after your games?” It isn’t what he was going to ask.

“That is not what you were going to ask,” Max says. Alex flushes, but Max answers anyway. “For me, yes. For Daniel, he says it was after.” Alex nods. Max’s answer is the only clear confirmation he’s gotten since hearing the jabberjays wail that Daniel and Max are lovers. “Now ask me what you were really going to ask.”

Alex hesitates, but another shockwave of the bombing has him throwing caution to the wind. By morning, they might be dead anyway.

“Did you like, live together and stuff?” He finally asks, and it’s a watered down version, and Max sees through that too.

“You mean, why did we not hide it better, from the Capitol?” He asks, head tilted to one side in a gesture that Alex has since learned means he’s considering how to dumb down a very easy concept to someone he thinks is very stupid.

It’s half of what Alex had wondered, along with how they worked, given the entire country knew the rumours of how Daniel spent his time when he was in the Capitol, how he got so many of the jewels he seemed to proudly wear at every year’s games coverage.

He shrugs.

“We tried,” Max says, “for a while. Of course, people do not like- Well.” Alex feels himself flush again. “But it got very hard.”

“The logistics?” Alex asks, surprised by the flimsy sounding excuse, but Max shakes his head.

“No, the-“ He breaks off to chew his lip, clearly debating how honest he wants to be. One of the cats Max told him Thirteen only had to keep the mice away appears as though from nowhere, winding itself around Max’s legs. Max hunches over with a cautious hand to pet it, and it lets him, where with Alex it would show its teeth and claws. Eventually, he continues.

“My sister, when I came back from the games, she did not look at me the same way,” he explains, tucking the photograph of Daniel carefully back into his pocket. “The Capitol paraded me around like one of their muts, like I was some kind of bedtime terror meant to scare their naughty children, as well as the people from my own home.”

You used to terrify me, Alex agrees internally, but he knows better than to say anything. The cat between Max’s feet begins to pur.

“The only time I really felt like a person anymore was with Daniel,” Max says, like it explains everything and in a way, it does. “It was too hard, to go for such long times feeling like a monster, too easy to start to believe that you are. When we are together, we can just- I can just-“

Max breaks off, putting his head into his hands. As his shoulders start to shake, Alex realises that Max is doing something Alex has never seen him do before.

He’s starting to cry.

[baby-jaguar]

Lust by Nature {Part 1}

Masterlist, Part 2, Part 3

Read on ao3

Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (eventual) slightly dubious consent, (eventual) Somno, he wants you but is stubborn, violence, succubus reader, sexual tension, reader is given a callsign, minimal descriptions of reader, will update tags as I go

Word Count: 4,015

Summary: A demon by nature; a succubus. Now finally designated to a team, you’re a pilot in how demons and hybrid creatures alike can change the war. However, your previous commanders didn't account for a man too stubborn for his own good. Captain Price stands firm in his morals and ethics, developed by his hardened years in the SAS. You, a lustful little devil, will put him to the test.

And maybe along the way, he’ll put your nature to the test.

A/N: For my own logistics, reader was born seemingly human but the traits and magic did not solidify until reaching adult years, making you appear youthful while stuck in that age. This was originally going to be PWP but I sit here 20k words later... I hope ye enjoy!

Being a far descendant of a fallen angel, you could laugh at the pitiful life you’ve led yourself into.

You’re a pretty thing- beautiful, really. Full of allure and a natural aura of sin that draws others in with a simple look. The blood that pumps and fuels your magic has been alive for a long, long time.

Boredom is a constant in the life of the soulless and damned. It’s agonizingly blurry if you don't set a task or just choose to meander around the world but fortunately for you, you’ve got quite the life ahead of you.

Coming from a state-of-the-art high-security prison base, you’re technically a super soldier with a special drawback. Needing humans to fuel your power; you suck the life out of them, literally, and take energy from their sexual desires and touch.

It’s almost the brunt of the joke when you answer the question of what you are, feeling each time such an expectant shame and laugh to be cast upon you like heavy stones.

A succubus.

Long-acting jester of the demons taken for a lust-driven fool.

Being detained early on in your young lifespan, you were trained to be used as a weapon. Not of mass destruction, but rather something to make these stupid games of war go by so much easier. Not having to slay countless bodies for information and getting a damn good meal from the lives you stole (maybe a few quickies when your superiors weren’t looking), it’s a considerably content life compared to others.

Graduating from training after a few decades was quite the celebration for you and the officials who have been overseeing you for a plethora of years. The military had found a suitable team for you, and you were designated to be put under the supervision of an elite task force.

Supernatural beings were not uncommon in the military, as a large amount were free to live their lives if docile. In the lands of gods and monsters, the humans still held supreme reign over the controlled populations. However, beings similar to you were quick to be captured and either trained or distributed- the world turning a blind eye to what you were capable of achieving in the good and the bad.

John Price. The name stuck to your tongue like you were thirsty and you had a thick paste in your mouth.

No, not semen. At least not yet.

Being appointed to Task Force 141 was exciting. It’s your first time with this much trust, but you know you’d never fuck around too much to land you back to your containment. Captain Price had steely eyes locked onto your form the moment you stepped out of the convoy; high-security cuffs around your wrists and a large band of metal wrapped around your torso. The assumption is to keep you from shapeshifting or lashing out at anyone now that you’re out from the heavy locks and fences.

To everyone else, you looked human. Nothing amiss besides the heavy security detail on your body.

“Captain Price.” Your General’s voice rings out for you, greeting him with a firm handshake.

“General, pleasure.” His eyes dart away from you to greet the man, and you take a small dissatisfaction at the notion, your eyes traversing the expanse of him, already ruminating and calculating his presence.

He’s strong. His energy is sturdy; A cement wall that has cracks laced upon itself, layers of bonding to cover them up and just barely sanded over to appear brand new. His physical appearance leaves your internal senses giddy with the sense of a new adventure. If you’d release your glamour illusion, your tail would be swaying slowly.

The contract was simple; Your powers would be used in specific operations under Price’s command. You were his, and his only, not being allowed to act under any other authority. Behave well and you’ll be integrated more into society by his terms, but the worse you were, the worse your containment.

Your payment? Being able to form a bond with Price, one that will satisfy your demon, while being sure to keep you useful.

The etymology humans created portrayed a slew of differing conditions for succubi contracts, most being a damning thing to land humans a hot spot in hell. Being able to create this tie meant that they’d be your selected mate while they’d bear your mark to ward off any other demons. Under this, it barricaded you from killing said person. Instead, the feeding would come from sexual desire, touch, and yes, semen.

Watching Price, the flames of your creation begin to already yearn for his touch.

It's with a simple handoff of your file, a thick manilla envelope, that gets passed off to Price with no other words spoken, and you can’t help but marvel at how they treat your ownership like a back alley drug. The General nods towards you, speaking your name before the simple “But we just call her Little Devil.” A small twitch of Price's mouth makes you wonder if he disapproves.

“She may be a demon but keep her well-kept, Price. Your trial run in this program is going to do more than change war tactics.” 

Shifting the envelope in his hands, Price takes a survey of how much documentation they have on just your captive existence. There could be some good and some bad, maybe all bad but the chance of letting a temperamental half-demon could cause serious repercussions to both sides. Hypothetically. 

“We’ll be in touch.” Price responds, the forced-looking grin making the blue of his eyes slightly disappear for a moment. A nod of his head, then attention back on you while judging how to best go about this.

“You speak…?”

It sets a bristle off inside you with an internal scoff. The chance to insult him for accusing you of being either incompetent or something of the silent type settles, but your probation period keeps you inside the lines of behavior. “Yes, Captain.”

When he hears your voice; It sounds ethereal. Like the crisp jingle bells while the sound is eclipsed if not swallowed by soft and red velvet.

A small tick of his right eyebrow was the only movement accompanying a hum in acknowledgment. “Right, well. Let’s get you settled in then.”

With the queue of acceptance, the General brings a small key from a pocket unbeknownst to you, moving to unlock the cuffs. There’s humor in watching you, the new operator being uncuffed while accepted onto base- and hey, maybe you could ponder the religious message it brings forward too.

But there’s not enough time for that notion.

Walking off the tarmac and into the nearby administrative building brings steady heed of stares. “So… Your previous situation. Was told it was more of a containment type of thing. Would you mind speaking on that?” Price’s toned-down voice comes out after more than a few paces into the building, leading you towards a stairwell into the third floor.

“The best way to describe it in normalcy would be similar to what you human soldiers do here- the barracks. Just imagine its very high security.” It takes a moment to draw up the answer, having expected the man to be as nitwitted as the normal “A sex demon, huh?” question asked in every new encounter.

 “You’ve always been in that situation?”

The clicking of both sets of feet confidently strikes the ground. A sense louder than the random soldiers milling around you and the lack thereof as others stop and stare in bewilderment.

“No. Not sure if you’re making small talk or haven’t read my file yet, but my demonic integration did not start manifesting until I was in my early adult years. Got turned in when I was walking around the streets in full form. No control whatsoever on shifting.” 

A broken-off hum leaves the man, sensing the almost frazzled static around him as he works to keep walking while maintaining an eye on you. “I have. Just wanted to hear it from you.” Truthfully, if you were in his place with an unshackled demon that had years of military experience walking alongside you, you’d have some sense of fear too. “And how long ago was that? When you matured?”

Eyeing him for a moment, he looks mid-40s if anything. Handsome, worn down from war so possibly a bit younger. “Quite some time ago. I’d say when your parents were born, Captain.”

He stops in a mid-step, balances perfectly set before turning to whirr his head at you. Eyes give an up-down motion on you before ticking his jaw. “Huh.”

He pushes his way through a wall of soldiers to an office door before opening it. “And how old-”

“Body stopped aging when all the changes settled. A second sense of puberty that I’m locked into.” The small upturn of your lips doesn’t pass him. All he can do is nod in response.

He makes his way to the desk against the back corner of his office room; The space is a good size, Having enough for his L-shaped desk with two chairs in front of it. A worn-in leather couch on an adjacent wall while a few framed documents hang on the wall, military in nature with medals attached to them while undusted fake plants serve as accents in the corners.

“Very well,” He gives a soft grunt when adjusting himself in his seat before opening up the large manilla folder. “You, are going to be judged based on your nature and human interaction during your uncontained enlistment. Ability to perform assignments, be of aid, and see what your specific capabilities can put forward with us.”

Head nodding in check with each item listed, “Understood, Captain.”

His blue eyes leave the documents for a moment to find your gaze already on him. “You’ve got a good rapport with every previous task, but your previous COs still didn’t state trust as a key factor. Why would that be?”

For a moment, you get lost in the focus of his body language; Price folds his arms over the table, holding his elbows as the pages become spread over his desk. The way he purses his lips after a question that holds an answer he will depend on. His lips make a small smack in the action, and it's cute in the way he’s so human.

“I didn’t trust them.”

An eyebrow arches at the vague response prompting you to continue. “Kept me like a lab animal, fed me or let me feed when deemed easy for them to write off in the report. That’s not how you treat a demon when expecting to use their powers, sir.” 

“And this feeding… There’s multiple ways listed here but to be frank- I’ve still yet to get my head wrapped around it. You’re a sex demon, yeah?”

Ah. There it is.

His eyes dart down to the few pages that cover your needs and methods of survival, studying the paragraphs of information. A how to keep your demon alive handbook if you will.

“The premise of everything I need stems from what is deemed as life force, or just called energy. Sex is easy, and feels the most satisfying.” A breath before continuing. “ But relying on just energy wont last me long, yet its easier in some situations. Those barely alive are easy to take from.”

He knows there's more to be had with you. A temptress trained well with a pedigree in what you were made for. But he can only hypothesize. “And what are you expecting from being here?”

A look of surprise flashes in the widening of your eyes, not used to someone asking in consideration. “I’m expecting more hostiles, interrogations, or kills that I could take to feed myself. And sex too.”

“Oh-” A half cough leaves him before looking to the side. Surely he should have known, it's stereotypical but at least true.

“If you want me at full strength, I’m going to need the energy. I’m sure you could understand that, Sir?” The small tilt of your head, almost an aloof look sends alarm bells into his mind. They wouldn’t have sent a succubus in here without some sort of plan already being formed, some procedure and measure being used to-

“I am expecting to form a relationship with you, Captain.”

And at that, a full choked sound leaves him. He deserves doubled pension for this.

“And in what right mind, was that established in, hm?” He grounds out, opening a desk drawer to pull out a cigar before taking a cutter to the end of it. You measure the time it takes for him to light it and take a first steady puff.

“Well, the way I see it- and having discussed it with my previous superiors, this is supposed to mirror a real dynamic. This is the only point of contact to report on my behavior. I don’t think engaging in what I need would go over well if I went wild with other operators or soldiers around the base. Confirm or deny?”

Price’s eyes narrow as you speak, dragging his gaze away to stare at his locked computer screen. A grunt in the back of his throat sounds before taking another inhale of his cigar. For a man who has been fighting on the front lines for countless years, he keeps the smoke in for a steady amount of time. Healthy lungs. Good for him. 

You haven’t tried a cigar, only have gotten a whiff of the burning tobacco coming from superiors. This smell is the lingering one you picked up on Price even when standing on the tarmac. Sweet, vanille and tobacco leaves.

“You said your previous company spoke on this with you.” He starts with a swift movement to rifle through the pages on his desk. “This in writing or are you taking the piss now?” He speaks in a deep grumble, holding the burning cigar between his lips.

An internal groan rattles your mind, already sensing this may be more of a struggle than ease of getting what you were promised. “Last few pages. It’s all in writing.” He seemed like a sensible man in the way that if a warm and inviting body was laid out to him while asking for himself, he’d take it.

“Commanding officer is to set an established and cohesive exchange, herein the succubus will be fed from a relationship in physical and sexual natures while in exchange not damaging or harming the officer.” His accent slides in a bit more thickly than you’ve heard up until now, eyebrows scrunched while he mumbles the page to himself. “And why in the bloody hell, was this not communicated to me beforehand?”

You can’t control the wry smirk that steals your lips while looking at him, trying not to laugh. “They thought it would be a no-brainer.” A pause, “Sir.”

Plucking the cigar out of his mouth, Price sighs while leaning back in his chair seemingly defeated. “You sufficed well without any previous relation in the company, there’s no evidence that this will turn out well.” His eyes now land on you in a quick movement.

“As I mentioned-” He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“No. I’m not going to sleep with my subordinate, less so one that can kill me if so pleases.” The uptick of his chin bleeds with firmness, a decision that screams arrogance of finality. 

Settling down in a way that almost matches his, your jaw ticks. “Yes, sir.”

And truthfully it's all you can say. Agree and accept to stay here and be the guinea pig for others like you. You can warn all you want but by the devil himself, humans won’t learn until their wrongs meet them in their face.

“If I could so much as advise you, Captain;” Your chin dipping, licking the front of your teeth, and feeling the small prick of your dormant fangs. He nods for you to continue, “If you want me at my full capacity, I will need every ounce of energy I can get. You’re going to need to keep that in the back of your head. It’s not simple like a meal you eat. It’s a life I take or the sex I make.”

Now, a quick smile flashes over him only disappearing when he takes a long, longer drag of the cigar. “I’ll keep that in mind, Demon.” Sitting up straighter, leaning on the desk again.

“But whether or not you are a good girl, depends on what ethics I choose to apply.” The smoke puffs out in small bursts as he speaks, tendrils leading up toward heaven before it stills in limbo at the weight of it.

—

The men- your teammates, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap, each greeted you with somewhat seasoned restraint and respect by holding their tongues yet their eyes spoke their curiosity while roaming over you.

You could see the disappointment in their eyes. Being met with a seemingly normal human was not what they had been briefed on. Having let their imagination run wild at the title of a succubus, you’d guess they would have wanted to see every aspect of what kind of mystical enchantress you would be. Once the disappointment of not seeing such things the churches pray against, the view of your human form set in.

Lords above you were the finest piece of- 

It felt like a surefire version of winning the lottery to have you assigned to them. Banking on the fact that you’d be their little guard dog and they yours, Gaz already having to scare recruits away at PT while you stared on with a coy smile. Training was as you’d have expected. Executions of strategies, questioning of tactics, and scoring your shooting were all within the long hours of the day. What you hadn’t expected was the lack of insults thrown your way in passing when you met their standards. No degrading words of being a a demon, or a slut by association of your breed.

It was two weeks before you were allowed to come on an assignment with them; The mission in the bitter snow of the Russian Tundra. 

12 hours in and having stormed a bunker with countless bodies already strewn across, blood stains the polished cement and a flicker of sinister delusion makes you wish the snow was this color.

Tattered remains of your shirt sleeves show the color of your skin underneath, but miraculously no wounds present themselves even as your kevlar has obvious points of damage. The sight of you standing, gun raised and firing quick bursts of succession as the last body falls to the ground. It’s like a scene out of a soldier's bible.

Your chest heaves, mouth opens to lick your teeth as the adrenaline slows its production in your blood. Price is sure that if he put a body cam on you, it would be a haze of movements, a shadow clouding up the corners of the screen and filled with static. He’s still not sure what to think of you in the short amount of time you’ve been here. Quiet and speaking only when spoken to. And it’s not what he was prepared for; The thick dossier of yours being filled with reprimands, complaints, and classified lines that hid your after-action reports with details on your kill count.

From the first meeting, he knew you were spoiled rotten in that compound, save the punishments given on your worst days. You knew how to get what you wanted. Bitting time and time again to still be fed. Yet, now all he can see is you biting at others if only to protect your men.

“Saint.” The spur of Price’s voice makes you jump, the scene of death halting, eyes darting to a stack of crates where he lays. His squinted eyes lock onto your form, trailing up and down for a moment before he tries to adjust himself with a grunt.

“Who?” You ask while taking a secondary cautious sweep of the room before moving to him in a quick few steps.

“You, sweetheart. Saint.” 

His grunt of pain doesn’t faze you, instead focusing the whiff of a sweeter metallic smell hits you. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

Ghost, Gaz, and Soap have the outside perimeter locked down with getaway snowmobiles at Price’s word. He touches the side of his com to activate it, roughly alerting them you both had cleared the floor and will need to medevac in the next coming moments.

“Let me get that for you.” It was a severe contrast to the inhumane growling and yelling from moments before as you tore into the enemies, ones that had you in a blind rage for landing a shot on Price.

Shaking his head, he reaches out his hand to stop you. “‘M fine, just need a quick patch. We need to leave.” He grounds out, leaning forward while covering the wound on his thigh.

Common knowledge brought the understanding that succubi had a level of regenerative power, but most not having been raised in military secrecy or being able to develop themselves into having control.

“Stop. Just-” A breath settles in your lungs, measuring itself and the expanse of what you could do- how you could help and be useful. The previous rage and fight instincts transform with concentration and the swirling of conjuration. “I need a little…” You trail off, eyes sweeping upwards to his.

There’s a shame that humans hold. You blame it on them being entirely born of boring flesh, but that would be hypocritical to an extent. Taking his vest in hand, you pull yourself forward to lean in.

“What the bloody-” Price jerks back but can't even finish as you sush him, giving him a deep stare that almost sedates him. He stills and quiets at the same time, now holding your gaze that he swears he saw the current color be flooded by a deep red.

He blinks for a moment, already trying to fight the small calming waves you push into him but the sudden feeling of long talons priking into his shirt makes him freeze. Like an animal with food aggression, you keep him there while moving in to bring your lips together. 

You can taste a bit of blood, and the saltiness of his sweat, while trying not to groan at just how good he feels against you. His lips are surprisingly plump, probably from being irritated due to the cold, but it adds a level of eroticness to feel his wet lips slide over yours. 

“Stay still for me.” You pause the kiss that he’s surprisingly reciprocating eagerly, breathing into each other's mouths. The soft plea drives his heart rate up and you can feel the sense of adrenaline spiking. He’s going to sleep like a fucking brick tonight.

He shudders when you come back together with more force, purposefully dragging the tip of your fangs against his bottom lip as you crowd him. 

There. 

There is the sickly sweet thrum of arousal in his body that makes his mind stir, what you could give in a bastardized excuse of lust right now.

“Mmm, give me a minute.” Comes your wet slurred speech when pulling away, eyebrows furrowing as you focus on on his bullet wound.

The sight of you could be his glory to fight. Tattered from battle, your lips are tinted red, clothes dirty from the gunpowder floating in the air, looking as if so carelessly lethal while your presence is a magnet to him. He's already caught himself wondering why you were chosen to represent a being that fell so far from heaven when your instincts screamed the opposite in small moments.

Looking down to be sure he’s healed just enough, you miss the look of blatant shock he gives when the pink and unmarred flesh greets his eyes. “A right fuckin’ saint you are.” He murmurs, watching you call the boys for exfil, no longer medevac.

[wellthebardsdead]

Lucy: *walking along side commander Zhalk as he proudly lines up some of his best men, the cambion visibly confused as his arch duchess stops and asks each of them their names and makes small talk before moving on* Yes. These men will do nicely. Listen up! When you reach the shadow cursed lands, and you will know when you reach them, trust me. Keep your moon lanterns high, guard the tieflings with your life and thus is very important. If you encounter a group called the harpers. Do not kill them! Ask them to guide you to Last light inn. Allow Zevlor or even the children to vouch for your entry if a woman named Jaheira is suspicious. And if you encounter a group of cultists belonging to the absolute. Kill on sight. No mercy. You’ll know them when you see them. But-… if a drider, is amongst them. Capture him unharmed. I need to talk with him. Alright?

The cambions: *nod* Yes your grace!

Lucy: hm, Sczark. Repeat my orders back.

Sczark: *a cambion at the end of the line, smaller than the others but still capable, quickly stands to attention* Moon Lanterns high, protect refugees, spare harpers, get to last light, kill cultists, capture drider.

Lucy: very good. Right, I’m satisfied.

Sczark: *giddly nudges the soldier next to him* she remembered my name!

Lucy: *looks to Zhalk* the cult cam hypnotise targets if they’re not careful. Make sure they’re all prepared.

Zhalk: You needn’t worry my lady. You have my word… *looks to the refugees* this is… a perplexing situation for me, you understand… You are, the polar opposite of Zariel.

Lucy: well I’ll take it as a compliment.

*several days later*

Lucy: *arrives to last light seeing everyone made it alive and safe, her cambions all flying over to greet her and the group, and all immediately drawing their weapons on jaheira as she tangled her in vines* STOP! HALT! YEILD! STAND DOWN! DROP WEAPONS! WHATEVER ELSE JUST DO IT!

Zhalk: *snarls looking equally confused and enraged at jaheira before lowering his sword along with his men*

Lucy: *sighs with relief* you sensed the tadpole right? You have one, in a jar?

Jaheira: indeed I do?… *holds it out watching it squirm*

Lucy: watch… *snaps her fingers blocking the connection*

Jaheira: how did, how did you do that?… it stopped reacting?

Lucy: I can block out the signal for now. Put it to sleep sort of… but I need it if I’m going to get into moonrise. The elderbrain these things are spawning from is there-

???: What in the hells do you think you’re doing?!

???: oh gods let them go right now!

???: they’re the ones who saved us!!

Lucy: *looks up and smiles as tears well in her eyes seeing everybody alive and coming to save them* It’s okay, I’m alright.

Zevlor: she’s the one who saved us and the emerald grove! Her cambions are the ones who brought us here!

Mol: yeah! She saved two of my friends! One from a harpy! And one from a mad druid! Didn’t leave a goblin standing neither! She didn’t make a fuss about thieving either! I pretty much trust her with my life!

Lia: You let her go right now or I’ll take you all on myself!

Rolan: that’s a terrible idea lia but- we are alive because of her… so let her go.

Cal: can everyone please just calm down-

Alfira: Calm down?! This lunatics about to kill our only hope of making it out of here alive!

Lucy: Nobody is killing anybody… not yet at least. There’s a traitor in your numbers and I know who. And I can prove it. With that very tadpole.

Jaheira: … *releases her* Let’s head inside, you’ve earned yourself the benefit of the doubt.

Lucy: *sighs with relief and nods* thank you. Let me check in with everyone and make sure they’re alright and I’ll meet you inside.

Jaheira: very well. *walks off*

Lucy: *watches them go before spotting a very worse for wear cambion amongst the numbers* Sczark? Oh sweetie pie what happened?!

Sczark: *somehow a brighter shade of red than he already is* y-you still remember me your grace?!

Lucy: of course I do what kind of boss would I be if I didn’t remember your names at Lea- oh right- *pulls out the bag of soul coins she’s accumulated, each randomly appearing for every enemy she’s killed and hands a couple to each of the cambions* here your payment- I don’t know the value is that enough?

Zhalk: *staring wide eyed at them in his palm* y-yes your majesty-

[i3utterflyeffect]

So in the King merc au, avm season 3 happened before now, so the color gang all met King before? Just wanted to clarify

So when Chosen got Second to fight against the mercs, Second recognized King, right? Wonder what they thought about that

yep! they all know King already, and i imagine that season 3 happened sometime between ava 4 and 5 since there's a big gap that wasn't really defined with anything happening, at least in this au because i just bend the timelines to whatever fits best at the time lol

by the time that ava 6 began, King was on pretty good terms with them in this au; he's doing better and even though he usually only visits the computer when Purple drags him along, he's been on much better terms with everyone.

(drawing from a little while ago)

that's why Second Coming is so majorly freaked out by him initially, to be honest. King HAS had a genuine change of heart, but seeing him with the command block staff definitely makes it look like he's just turned on them.

King tries his best to explain but there's not really an opportunity to do so until after SC has already been captured by Agent.

King more or less tries to make it as painless as he possibly can, mostly by keeping SC still... but because of him avoiding fighting and debuffing SC instead, Chosen starts targeting them (because if SC is stopped, there's no way either of them could get out of this--)

If it wasn't for Agent, King wouldn't be so worried about it-- but I think that when he sees the Glitch Gun, he's IMMEDIATELY reminded of how painful it was to be in the destruction beam of the Minecraft² staff.

[sadruru]

Part 2 of Springfinder. 3) Temptation:

How could she have known where this talk would lead? Unexpectedly, the commander accepted the young tiefling's feelings. Without even thinking, the words came off her lips. Only then came the realization of what had been said. Woljif was silenced by the feelings that came over him. He hugged Melissa tightly, smiled broadly, and laughed softly, either in disbelief or relief. Melissa was embarrassed by the unexpected embrace and froze. This display of affection was too unfamiliar, forgotten. Pretty strange description for someone who was always making obscene jokes and acting out of control, huh? The pleasant feeling burned her heart again. Melissa's hands reached for the boy in response, and for a split second they stopped, trembling violently.

Doubt. Maybe even a little fear. Did she deserve this? Maybe fate wanted to laugh at her again? To give something and then take it away, like always. Wouldn't it ruin everything again?

The temptation to feel at least a little happy and truly needed was too great. Taking a deep breath, the commander quickly calmed herself. No matter what, let it be. No one else would give her a third chance to fulfill all her desires and right her wrongs again. One loving look from Woljif was enough to make her extremely greedy. Now Melissa can only hope that this sin will not kill her.

The cold no longer bothered anyone, for this winter night was the warmest in many years.

4) Capture:

Captivity begins with your own mind, tiefling. In your case, you don't even have to make the extra effort. Your mind and soul are already nearly destroyed. All I need is a little nudge. There's so much you're trying to forget. Your pain, regrets, rage, resentment. Remember, you're being used. They have been, they are, and they always will be. There's no place for you in this world.

Surrender, mortal. You're nothing.

Your end will be as pathetic and lonely as you are. In the end, you'll destroy everything you've achieved. You will lose everything you hold dear, become like a broken mirror and disappear. 5) Healing:

I'm tired of lying helplessly in four walls. That's enough. Nice try, goatface. You're gonna make me apologize to the others for my behavior. Some of them especially... You're wrong about a lot of things, Baphomet. The world really sucks and isn't worth a drop of my time, but I'm not going to just give up at your behest and miss my second chance. There's too much at stake now. I'm not alone. Not anymore.I've made peace with my past and will write my own future and ending. No one else will dare stand in my way: not humans, not gods, not pathetic demon lords like you.

... Someone - When are you gonna stop drawing the same characters?!!!

Me - ...Yes 🗿 I look at the first art and know what awaits them... I love eating glass *COUGHING HARD*

I wanted a soft green background instead of purple. But I got mad, freaked out, and painted it my favorite color. Well, you know, а little symbolism and meaning ha-ha...

[sonicasura]

Based on the asks by @foolmariofest, I figured why not share my view of a Pokemon/Kaiju No.8 crossover. Any spoiler related material(last two episodes) will be found at the end past the read more tag!Let's start with the teams before I get into meat of this post!

I decided to choose Miraidon as the Ride Pokemon for this while the Egg Pokemon are Goomy, Milcery and Tyrunt. Treecko will evolve eventually to Sceptile but they are the latest catch in Trainer's team. Goomy will evolve into the Hisuian varient of Goodra. Now let's get started.

Trainer doesn't know who their real parents are. For most of their life, they were raised by migratory Bird Pokemon alongside their starter(Torchic/Quaxly). A kind-hearted stranger in Galar would later introduce them into society when Trainer's was about 5. PokeSpeak was their main language before then.

Kafka is planning to draw up adoption papers. All of him pretty much adopted Trainer mentally and emotionally so why not? The Monster Sweepers already sent him some research on how to adopt unregistered children.

Amongst the Battle Frontier, Trainer's gym is the most difficult to win against. Their badge has three variations as they have two other people to help manage the place. Bronze and Silver are the most common badge earned while the Ideals Badge is the least.

A Legendary/Mythical/Ultra Beast magnet. Due to Trainer's more open minded nature towards wild Pokemon, it isn't uncommon for rarer ones to seek their company without concern of possible capture. Any who do join are either willingly or captured for their safety(Eternatus). Best to watch out for Ultra Wormholes in case of spontaneous visits.

Trainer tends to travel out of curiosity and a penchant to learn. Something that eventually leads them to the KN8verse. It isn't uncommon for Trainer to offer their new friends a chance to explore their world on the group's days off.

Reno and Kikoru often join training sessions with the young Frontier Brain. They aren't as intense like Kafka's but does put them through the ringer. All of them use inspiration from these experiences during missions or Defense Force training.

Berry mishaps are a given especially around lunch time. Kafka once took a bite out of a Tamato Berry in human form. Apparently he can only safely eat it as a Kaiju or else has to deal with swollen lips from the spiciness. Pecha and Oran Berries are popular with the group.

Making Pokemon treats is unavoidable. Poffins, Pokepuffs, Pokeblocks and the like. Kafka is the type to eat them as they are apparently very delicious to Kaiju. Same goes for Dynamax Honey, Dynamax Mushrooms, and Gigantamax Curry. (In Ai's opinion anyway.)

Picnics and picnic related shenanigans will always happen. You can say it was quite the sight for the Defense Force once Trainer officially joins them. They make sure the beach ball doesn't go into the curry or sandwiches.

Before Riot No.8 could attack Isao Shinomiya, Trainer teleports in with help from their Pokemon. They use the song Oración to calm down the enraged kaiju who lovingly nuzzles them and reassures he's still here before collapsing from exhaustion of the forced transformation. In righteous anger, Trainer challenges Isao Shinomiya to a battle for Kafka's safety.

The Commander is humbled by their Hariyama and is forced to listen to the youth. Kafka later receives this very news once he wakes up again. Even footage of the battle was shared and recorded to him.

[healersadjust]

makeup - for the single-word fic prompt!

Thank you so much for the prompt!!!!!!!!

Aki shouldn’t be here.

She should be off with the Scions, helping them with… Well, she doesn’t exactly know. But she should be there, at least as motivation, or whatever Minfilia said she needed her presence for last.

In the aftermath of the Crystal Tower, that’s honestly all she’s been able to do. Sit quietly at a table while people either look at her with pity or praise her for past deeds. Depends on how much they know, and who thinks they can get away with speaking to her when she’s so obviously not in the mood for chatting.

Aki’s pretty sure she had a meeting today, or needed to watch over some new recruits training, or something like that. But instead, she’s sitting on her aunt’s bed while they engage in some “girl time.”

“So, you’ll let me paint your nails, right? They’re so long!” It was technically a question, but Aki knew Cecelia meant it more as a statement.

“Oh, are my nails not fun to paint anymore?” Constianne teased as she leaned against the wall. “Suppose I’ll just paint them myself from now on.”

“Shush! Aki’s been gone for months!” Cecelia gave her sister a pointed glare. “Besides- I know that’s an empty threat.”

Constianne sticks her tongue out at Cecelia, and they continue their sisterly banter while Aki watches.

Its… Nice.

Aki is sure that both of them know that something’s wrong with her, but they certainly don’t show it. They know better than that. The two of them act like they always do, even if Aki doesn’t engage as much. They don’t give her knowing looks, they don’t ask about her time away from home. They let her set the tone, and they keep it the same until she switches things up again.

It’s nice, not to be treated like a stray kitten that people are afraid to scare off. Her aunts just treat her the same as they always do.

“Here, make a sign, won’t you?” Cecelia passes Aki a piece of paper and a marker. At the top, ‘No boys allowed!’ is written in big block letters. “So we can make our girls night official.”

Aki cracks a smile. “Like old times.”

“Duh!” Constianne pushes herself off the wall, taking a peek at the paper as Aki starts making silly drawings of Lucien and Florian.

After a few minutes, Aki hands the paper to Cecelia. “Write ‘Amil welcome’ at the bottom, please?”

Constianne raises her brows. “Amil?”

“He wouldn’t want to come in anyway,” Aki shrugs. “But if he did, I think some sparkly eyeshadow and bright lipstick would look quite nice, don’t you think?”

At that, her aunts laugh. Something about this makes the weight Aki’s been carrying for months ease.

“Your wish is my command!” Cecelia giggles as she writes it down. She walks to the door, opens it, and tapes the sign to the door.

“Alright, where do we start?”

The morning is quiet. Too quiet.

Lucien isn’t one to turn down any peace he can get in this house, typically. But with Aki home… The silence typically means Constianne has looped everyone she could into coming up with a prank to play on him. And as much as he wanted to cheer Aki up, he was NOT in the mood to have his clothes dyed an obnoxious shade of orange again.

He moves quietly, tip-toeing up the stairs. He’d like to catch them in the act, if possible. He opens the door to his room quietly and is shocked to see everything looks exactly how it should.

That must mean they’re planning something more like a glitter bomb- the most annoying of Constianne’s pranks.

He cursed under his breath and continues moving. When he reaches the door with the “No boys allowed- Amil welcome!’ sign, he presses his ear to the door.

He’s entirely shocked at what he hears. Instead of the usual chatter and sounds of chaos, he hears… Snoring? That can’t be. For all their faults, most of the family are morning people with a habit for causing chaos as soon as they rise.

He opens the door carefully to take a peek, and he’s even more shocked to see Cecelia, Constianne, Aki, and… Wait, is that Amil? Is he wearing bright green makeup?

He rubs his eyes. How in the seven hells did they talk the cryptid in the family to not only join them, but stay long enough to have neon green lipstick put on him?

Well- Lucien knows his duty, now. The others have to see this.

[niuttuc]

Would love some recs for a Nethroi, Apex of Death deck with a Kaheera companion. Self Mill and reanimation are the general game plan, but the theme is "Cards from a Forgotten Pokemon Clone from from the 00s"

Mmmmh, a tough one. Hard to recommend creatures because the restriction means you likely already saw most of them, particularly the good ones, but hard to recommend noncreatures either because the deck likely wants to be mostly creatures.

Let's see... For the vibes and the gameplay the main recommandation will be...

Vivien is pretty much a Pokémon spinoff character, she captures defeated monsters' spirits in her bow to summon in her assistance later on. I love these three Vivien and try to find them homes regularly, but this deck might be a fit. Vivien on the Hunt is six mana, but for this deck, she mills (you can draw the creatures, or just leave them in the 'yard if you want them there), she pods which is always a fun way to tutor when it's not a combo, and then she has a fallback for defense.

Three mana Vivien is very fragile in a game of commander, but Vigilance and Reach at least means one blocker, if you can keep up your mana you can threaten to flash in stuff, and at worst she can draw a card when she enters with her -2 so she replaces herself. I just love the gameplay of every creature having flash, and notably, Mutating is still casting a creature spell, so with her out you can mutate at instant speed.

Monster's Advocate is the most generically good, but the one that I think fits a bit less well here. Still, she's powerful, and the tokens she makes are beasts for Kaheera's purposes.

Now for some other recommendations that might already be in the deck:

Dinosaur Egg is technically a Dinosaur for Kaheera, has zero power for Nethroi to bring back, loves being mutated onto because it likely got a few counters and has a trigger based on toughness, and seems close enough to some Pokémon mechanics to end up in a clone.

Season of Loss is a modular board wipe from the upcoming set that has a lot of options, but a self-mill creature deck in particular should be very capable of turning that last mode into a potent wincon, and shouldn't have too hard a time to combine the first two modes for profit considering how much stuff Nethroi can bring back.

I feel like I recommend this card to every other black decks, but in my defense, it's really good, really fun to play with, and for now, still relatively affordable.

It's a classic, but it always gets real big real fast which does work with Nethroi's lifelink or any Mutate's evasion, has 0 power from Nethroi, and the new art does have enough pokémon vibes.

Sometimes, you just want to return your Nethroi to hand to just be able to re-mutate it without paying commander tax. Cheap flash creatures that allow you to do that or can be brought back with Nethroi to do their thing immediately.

[josefavomjaaga]

Hello! To start out, I REALLY love your page! The detail put into your posts and responses are so fun and interesting to read. I especially love when you interpret quotes with, like, I guess “stage play” versions. They’re so funny.

So I wanted to ask something of you for the first time. I’ve been writing a story that takes place in the Napoleonic Wars era for a while now, so I’ve been doing a lot of research in that era (and a lot of that research is guided by your posts haha). There are several important characters who are supposed to be police in an 1805 French town, but I’ve been having trouble finding good info about them, like what those police wore, what they carried, what their responsibilities were, etc. I’m not even sure if they have like a police station kind of headquarters or something in 1805 France. If you have anything that’ll help me out just about those french police at the time, that would be much appreciated. So far, I’ve been drawing comics about them, but whenever a police shows up I just draw him in the normal napoleonic soldier uniform…although that’s probably not accurate. Thanks!

Well, first of all: Thank you! 💖 Truth be told, I often feel quite impertinent, mocking all these illustrious personalities, who have both achieved and gone through things I cannot even imagine. But sometimes I just can’t help it. Laughter is the weapon of those without power (and in my case, without merit). Plus, it renders all these grim warriors a lot more human, and, as far as I am concerned, more amiable.

As to your question – as I’ve said in the other Ask below, it’s quite easy to find the end of my knowledge 😁. That would be one of those cases.

I actually have read up a bit on the development of what we call police today, but only for German territories. But I presume developments in France were similar, with innovations usually starting a little earlier. The German word »polizey« originally was applied to all sort of public tasks, from the organisation of markets to cleaning of the streets. It was only during Napoleon’s time (and presumably under French influence) that the term was somewhat reduced to public security measures (but that still included, for example, firemen). When it came to crimes, it usually meant what we today would call a »secret police«, i.e., surveillance of the population rather than investigation of crimes already committed.

But investigation could be part of it. Napoleon’s famous minister of Police Joseph Fouché (that one has to be named first) is mostly known for his spy network and his detailed files on pretty much everybody who was somebody in France. But, for example, after the »infernal machine« asassination attempt his men did some excellent investigations and found the culprits within days. I do not know where in Paris the Ministry of Police was located.

One of the main task of the police was to look after foreigners in town and to issue passports, as in theory nobody was allowed to travel without one.

For Paris, the police headquarters was the Préfecture de Police. It still exists today, but I do not know if it’s still in the same location. The different arrondissements of the city all had their own chief of police, who answered to the préfecture. An interesting personality to look into more might be Jean-François Réal, a co-worker of Fouché and possibly more the kind of »policeman« as we understand the term today.

As to keeping up security in the capital, that was – I think! - at least to some degree also the job of the gouverneur de Paris (who commanded the military forces stationed in the city and for a very long time happened to be one Andoche Junot, so I hope maybe @snowv88 can either confirm or correct me 😊).

It is to be noted that Fouché’s (secret) police was not the only police under Napoleon’s rule. Actually, there were several police organisations all spying on each other. On top of that, the army units had their gens d’armes who kept order and investigated possible violations among or by soldiers.

From what I have read, outside of Paris the police may have been subject to the préfet of the départment, but I am not even entirely sure about that. There seem to have been »bureaux de police«, police offices, so some kind of headquarters for the local police agents must have existed.

And that, I fear, is already all I have. I very much hope for input from people with more knowledge, because now I’ve gotten interested and want to learn more myself.

Thank you for the question and all best wished for your stories! Please share whenever you feel like it!

[evilou]

So I recently listened to a No Stupid Questions podcast episode about closure. It's gotten me thinking about Amber, Melisande, and other folks in the Hive who did not go through optimization.

So getting closure about an event is supposedly important because when you understand or know what happened, your mind can move on from it, to drastically simplify things. An example given in the episode was buying a lottery ticket. You spend the next few days happy and imagining all the things you would do with the winnings, even if you know that the odds are next to impossible. Once the lottery numbers are revealed and yours are not a match, life goes back to normal. You might be disappointed, but at least you got that closure of knowing what happened.

So, how does that relate to the people in the Hive who did not go through the Lottery optimization process? Aka, the people with a talent or skill so rare and precious that the Hive could not afford to let them do any other job? Well, I'm thinking about how Amber spends a few books questioning what her other life may have been, if she wasn't a telepath. She did not discover any special skills or talents on Teen Level. She was good at swimming, sure, but not exceptional. So, what profession Lottery would have allocated if she wasn't a telepath is an open question.

Meanwhile, Melisande was probably pretty sure that she was going to come out of Lottery as a Composer or whatever, so there wouldn't be this big question hanging over her about what her other life would have been. And, realistically, candidates for Gold Commander have to be extremely loyal and dedicated, so any dissatisfaction would probably have faded away pretty quickly. Her inner sense of duty would have overridden it as she thought about the fact that her Hive needs her to do this specific job.

Whereas for Amber, she doesn't have any idea of the kind of job she would have had if she wasn't a telepath. And realistically, most folks won't, going into Lottery. We know there are people who have a pretty good idea; Linette probably fully expected to get some kind of work with animals, we know that Gregas will probably become a scout, and that Lucas expected Juniper to come out of Lottery as a Sea Farm Admiral. Even those aren't/weren't guarantees. However, despite that, most people do eventually find out.

But Amber? She has no idea, and she's never going to know. Realistically, nobody is going to allow her to do another, altered run of Lottery to find out what she would have become, and it would probably leave her dissatisfied anyway. (I also think that if she went through Lottery now, the results would be quite different than if she hadn't ended up as a telepath the first time, because a lot of her teen years were affected by her fixation on Forge. Though this can also be used as a criticism of Lottery in general, because people change during their lives and the person you are at 18 is not necessarily the person you're going to be at 28 or beyond. For example, Fran developed a hatred of telepaths - but she never would have been imprinted for a Telepath unit position if she had had those beliefs before.)

We know she's basically gotten over that now, but maybe the lack of closure meant that it took her much longer than, say, Melisande.

So, going back to the lottery ticket (which is not a perfect analogy by any means): Melisande got a pretty clear answer: her numbers were not a match. But for Amber, she didn't get either of those answers. Her numbers didn't match, but they also didn't *not* match. She ended up with some random third option, a totally unexpected curveball. I guess, in lottery terms, this would be like if you bought a lottery ticket but the draw was cancelled. You never find out whether you had the winning ticket or not.

It's an interesting question to ponder. It makes me wonder about the other folks who end up in that position. For example, Alvin. His scientific ability is so rare and valuable that the Hive wasn't going to imprint him for anything else. However, his personality meant that he wasn't really suited to the lifestyle he was given, so he started causing problems. Also, Keith - realistically, if he hadn't been a telepath, I'd imagine he would have ended up near the bottom of the Hive, similar to Reece.

[thelordofgifs]

very excited for the next tfs arc, hopefully maglor has time to recover from his many wounds in time to get more pincushion-ed. I love how maglor has the most and least plot armour simultaneously. Any pointed objects in a metre radius spontaneously attack him but he will. not. die. He persists.

Also, very funny that curufin is lost. You don't know where he is, he might not know where he is! He could be anywhere. He could be in your house! He could be in my house! If i see him i will let you know!

where did most of the feanorian soldiers go? If any of them are still loyal i imagine they could be useful later.

Anyway I'm looking forward to the return of everyone's favourite feral woodland princess!

Is thingol's fate going to change in this fic? The feanorions have even less political clout than they did in the silm so he's probably not going to be negotiated with without a really good argument. Without Celegorm and with Curufin missing/not going to do any more arguing and the lack of forces for them to use I don't know how a second kinslaying could happen but I am excited to find out!!

lol I think I’m going to give Maglor a little break from the pincushioning – he has Been Through It lately and now deserves a nice long rest in which to recover and get many hugs from Maedhros and prepare for his next character arc!

WHERE IS CURUFIN. WE DO NOT KNOW. tbh if he’s in anyone’s house it would be yours – he knows how much you love him!! Although I am now dying to see a giant wanted poster for Curufin. Or not even wanted in the criminal sense but more like a lost dog poster. Maedhros and Maglor can stick them up all over Hithlum like hi have you seen our lil brother he’s the absolute worst but we’d like to know where he is

Ok so I actually went down a rabbit hole here thinking about numbers. According to random websites whose sources I have not thoroughly checked, the average fatality rate in a medieval battle would have been about 10-15%, going up to maybe 25% for really bad ones. (Sadly the small sibling is away at university now so my usual source of military facts has disappeared.) Since the Nirnaeth was probably THE worst military defeat in the legendarium, and it involved Balrogs and dragons, we could put an upper limit of like 30% on fatality rates on the battles of Beleriand? Although Barahir somehow managed to get his entire fighting army presumably numbering at least a thousand down to thirteen guys so maybe that’s an underestimate! Also most fatalities taken by the losing side are apparently during the retreat, not the battle itself; and since Maglor managed to draw off the orc armies during the fall of Himring, let’s say that Maedhros lost… 15% of his people in the fight. So definitely a pretty bad defeat, but not awful. Then of the remaining 85%, let’s say 75% went south to Amon Ereb and the last 10% have decided to join up with Fingon instead. But Maedhros has explicitly renounced his command of them, so that lot aren’t really Fëanorian soldiers any more. Meanwhile Caranthir and Amras just received a LOT of reinforcements, not to mention some extremely confusing news about what’s been going on.

Anyway yessss I am SO excited to have our feral woodland princess back and causing trouble!! More than one person in the notes was wondering if she’d show up and stop either the execution or the fall of Himring as a whole and I felt really sad about not being able to do that, but the timelines just don’t work out. But she’s going to have Stuff to do (some of which I know about and some of it I only have very vague ideas about).

Ok so Thingol… I really need to do some thinking about him. What I can tell you is that the fall of Nargothrond, Húrin bringing the Nauglamír to Doriath, and the subsequent death via entirely preventable racism thing is not going to go down the same way in tfs as it does in canon (which isn’t to say none of those things will happen – but if they do happen, they’ll happen differently). So his fate is going to be different, but that doesn’t mean he’s going make it out okay necessarily! My instinct is to just make a bunch of people have conversations and see what conclusions they come to. The AU is going to get into some very uncharted territory soon, and I will absolutely be making everything up as I go.

Thank you for the ask ❤️❤️❤️

[mail-forwarding]

(How Hidehira's Sons Were Hunted Down) It was in this manner that Yasuhira obtained Yoshitsune's head to be sent to Kamakura. "Those men are despicable," said Yoritomo. "They killed Yoshitsune after he had gone to them for protection. Worse than that, they had the effrontery to use the ex-Emperor's command as an excuse to lay hands on my brother." He cut off and exposed the heads of Yasuhira's entire delegation––the two senior retainers who were its leaders, and all the others as well, down to the lowliest servants. Soon afterward it was agreed at a council of war to send a punitive force against Yasuhira at once.

(excerpt from Yoshitsune: a fifteenth-century Japanese chronicle, translated by Helen Craig McCullough)

FUUUUCK okay okay, I know Housamo doesn't draw from Gikeiki and doesn't even draw from Heike Monotagari all that much either, but listen. Assuming Yasuhira exists in Housamo-verse. Can you imagine? Yoritomo, faced with the head of the little brother's he's alternatively afraid of and concerned over. The little brother no one could ever beat––least of all by a man as cowardly and disloyal as Fujiwara no Yasuhira.

I mean of course a guy as fucked up as Housamo's Yoritomo would refuse to believe in the authenticity of the head. That's his little brother's head. Sure Yoshitsune was a threat, sure he was completely unpredictable except for all the parts where he was actually pretty reliably predictable, sure he scared the living fuck out of Yoritomo at every turn and had no regard for propriety or personal space or privacy. But that was the best warrior in the Land of Wa. In what circumstances could Yasuhira have ever taken his head?

(Unless he let Yasuhira take it, but that would be letting Yoritomo win, and why would he ever let Yoritomo win?)

(And why Yasuhira? Someone so undeserving of Yoshitsune's trust, someone so undeserving of his land and post?)

And we know they were on at least okay terms before the breakup because Yoritomo slips pretty easily back into the role of the long-suffering but doting big brother. Again, that's his little brother. Grief does funny things to people in real life, let alone in Housamo. Of course he's skeptical. He can't even let himself contemplate the idea he was the one to betray Yoshitsune first. Can you imagine? Yoritomo seething with rage and disbelief, turning towards the safer target (Yasuhira for his slanderous lies) rather than try to examine his own grief. A+ angst.

(Along that vein, the irony of Gikeiki Yoritomo raging at Yasuhira's effrontery, when he was the one who made Go-Shirakawa give Yasuhira the imperial command to kill Yoshitsune. Like buddy. You got exactly what you asked for. Including the Oshu gold now that you've conquered the Fujiwara land.)

[alparlaboratories]

My OCs Masterlist

I got tired of having to look through my mess of a computer to find drawings and other stuff about old OCs and characters I might wanna use in the future, and I’m bored right now so I figured I’d make a list with all of my important OCs, or at least the ones that mean the most to me.

These are not ALL of my OCs, just the main ones for their respective stories/campaigns. But there’s still a lot, lol. Also I’m not counting Niss for this list, even if she’s an OC in my heart. You can learn more about her in my pinned post anyway.

(Note: Art is either made by me, my partner @pastlight or has been commissioned by various artists)

1)

Metchi

You know how parents say they don’t have a favorite child? Well I do and it’s Metchi. ‘What if someone decided they wanted to do good purely out of spite and had pretty much everything stacked against them?’ I asked myself. ‘What if she was also a grungy trans girl who has no fucking clue what she’s doing and is constantly bickering with the deity inside her head?’ was the next question. And from that, Metchi was born. The willpower to burn a hole through Mt. Coronet yet the resources and energy of someone who considers cigarettes the most effective breakfast.

2)

Nico

He’s my PC from our current (in hiatus) Pokemon tabletop campaign. A Lumiosian street artist and Sky Trainer who enjoys throwing himself off of high places and being completely fucking incomprehensible to all who meet him. The only neurons in his brains are dedicated to serving looks, calling the wind to his command and delivering the most unhinged takes on the nature of human happiness he can think of.

3)

Tulip

‘I would like to make a tragic character whose obsession with the truth will inevitably lead her to ruin’ I thought. ‘Oh, fuck’ Tulip replied. Out of all my stories, hers is currently my favorite from a writing perspective, and I owe a lot of that to Tulip herself, always willing to push and push until something pushes back, because it’s what she thinks she owes to the people who were just as unfortunate as her. And I love her for it.

4)

Hope and Hunter

These two come in a package deal. ‘Small town life-long friendship’ is something I’ve been meaning to try my hand at writing for a while, and though their story is at the very beginning, I like them quite a lot already. A lot of my personal history with friendships and growing up into your twenties is imbued into them, though they are cooler and dumber and more than willing to take those things to their natural extremes.

5)

Ska

Protagonist of my yet in-progress, unnamed visual novel I’m working on. She’s a sheltered Fae changeling with a death sentence hanging over her head, and a desperate desire to do as much stupid shit as possible before something ends up killing her. She has a bat and absolutely sucks at using it, and she’s hopelessly in love with both of her best friends. I love her deeply, and I hope I can share her with everyone soon.

6)

Shadi

Absolute trash human being, possibly the worst woman in Sinnoh, lover of drama and shadow magic and also Dark Souls. What if an older sister was allowed to be as evil as her little heart desired? Well, that’s Shadi. Obviously there’s more to her, but I like making fun of her. I think she’s a funny character on her own right, except when she’s doing horrible shit to my other OCs, which is often. In any case, she’s one of my favorites to write for a reason.

7)

Eatos

Eatos is... weird. They don’t have a set story, they kinda bounce around a few of my works being mysterious and off-putting and tricking people with smoke/illusion magic. They exist in the same universe as Ska, and in that world at least they’re a human with the power of a Fae artifact. I’ll get more of a chance to develop them someday.

8) (Really old drawing, I didn’t even have a tablet back then lol)

Shadi... 2!

Yeah I have a few characters named Shadi, I just really like the name. Anyway this particular Shadi may be my first actual OC, back when I was... fuck, I dunno, fourteen? I don’t know how relatable this is, but she’s the OC that made me think ‘I’m gonna write her story and become a famous fantasy author and write a bunch of books and-’ and you know the drill. That didn’t quite end up happening, but I don’t regret it much. I did write a book, but my creative goals right now are very different from back then, and I’m happy with that. One step at a time. Still, I care a lot about Shadi for basically getting me into writing fiction, and someday I hope I can write a story that’ll serve as thanks for her.

9

Cole

PC for another Pokemon tabletop campaign that unfortunately never progressed much. Which is a shame, because I like this guy, even if he’s so hard to relate to sometimes that I have trouble writing him. He’s nn ex League/army man who now lives peacefully in Pacifidlog alongside his Electrode called Maradona. He loves dogs to a comical degree (the only part about him I understand) and spends most of his time drinking beer, wishing he could drive fast vehicles and helping out Darya, his neighbor and aspiring contest star.

10)

Machi

Uh... yeah, we’re getting into the really old ones. I don’t remember much about Machi other than she was a hired killer and lived with a guy who did all her murder planning for her because the pay was good and he hated his job that much. It was from her story that Eatos came forth, so it’s a shame that they ended up being so much more interesting to me than Machi. I still like her, though.

11)

Tala

Listen, we all gotta have an edgy OC with a sword, and Tala was mine. Another PC for an even older Pokemon tabletop, maybe even THE oldest. I went around from loving him when I created him, to despising him a few years after and now kinda liking him again, just because he’s so ridiculous in his drama queen ways. He almost rivals Niss in that regard. But yeah, cool sword, tragic backstory, crabby personality, the works. What do you want from me? I loved that shit when I was a dumb kid.

Anyway... there are more of them, but these are the main ones I remember. Of course there’s also Reiko and Percy and characters like that, but they’re different kinds of OCs, and I already posted about them before.

No point to this post other than to have them on here for future reference.

[big-dumb-fish]

Will it Jon? Part 1

@stickology pointed out that the card Jon Irenicus, Shattered One from the recent set Commander Legends: Battle for Baldur's Gate could be a good way to use Big Dumb Fish cards: by forcing your opponents to take them from you, attack your other opponents with them, and not sacrifice them.

So, with that in mind, I am going through every card ever reviewed on that blog and rating each of them based on whether it's a good idea to use Jon Irenicus to give it to an opponent. I'm only going to include cards that 1.) are creatures, and 2.) are the right color identity to fit in a Jon Irenicus deck (at least for now), and I'm going to be using the following rating scale:

A card with a Jon rating of 5 will either completely screw over whoever receives it, or will inconvenience that player and/or your other opponents while giving you advantages.

A card with a Jon rating of 4 will severely inconvenience its recipient or your other opponents, or moderately inconvenience them while benefiting you.

A card with a Jon rating of 3 will inconvenience its recipient without giving you advantages, or will give you advantages without affecting its recipient. Any creature that's reasonably large or that has some evasion will go here by default, because it will attack your other opponents every turn and make you draw a card by doing so.

A card with a Jon rating of 2 won't do much, affecting neither you nor its recipient. A creature with low stats and no evasion will go here by default unless it has more interesting effects.

A card with a Jon rating of 1 will benefit its recipient more than giving it away benefits you.

A card with a Jon rating of 0 is something that will end in disaster for you if you try to give it away.

That said, let's look at some Jon ratings! I'm going to be doing these weekly until I run out (possibly interspersed with some brand-new BDF ratings); most weeks I'll do more than this, but I'm cutting this one short to balance out that long intro. So here are my thoughts on the first three Big Dumb Fish I ever reviewed:

Leviathan

Original rating: Big 5 / Dumb 5 / Fish 5 (link)

Jon rating: Unfortunately, despite being the Platonic ideal of Big Dumb Fish, Leviathan does not work well with Irenicus. If your opponent attacks with it, they do twelve damage to another one of your opponents and you draw a card, which sounds pretty great until you realize that that's only going to happen if your victim is willing to sacrifice four islands. In practice, I think you'd be lucky to ever see this untapped after you give it away, let alone attacking, so it only gets a score of 2/5.

Segovian Leviathan

Original rating: Big 2 / Dumb 2 / Fish 5 (link)

Jon rating: This fits solidly into the "just a beatstick" category. If someone else at the table is in blue, they'll take 5 every turn, which is reasonable, especially since you're also drawing cards off it. It's still a boring choice, though. 3/5

Elder Spawn

Original rating: Big 3 / Dumb 4.5 / Fish 4 (link)

Jon rating: Originally, I expected this one to be bad with Irenicus: the recipient would choose to not feed it an island, so it would die and hit them on the way out... but Irenicus is an insistent giver, preventing his gifts from being sacrificed. So instead, this is very strong: every turn, it will inflict six damage to whoever gets stuck with it and eight to someone else, and you get to draw a card. Maybe not worth seven mana, but definitely worth including if you can cheat its cost. 4/5

[jungkxook]

—moonstruck. (m)

⟶ pairing: taehyung x reader

⟶ genre: werewolf!taehyung au / arranged marriage au / smut with a sprinkle of fluff

⟶ words: 7,421

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: in hindsight, being friends with a pack of werewolves and, thus, suddenly being thrown into a world of supernatural furries and other inhuman beings isn’t something you would recommend but it was too late to back out now, especially when you consider the fact that apparently you’re now being “hunted” and the only way to save you is to be mated with taehyung. whatever that means.

⟶ warnings: multiple smut scenes, first time (virgin!taehyung), clumsy sex, soft and gentle sex, sort of rough sex, all the sex, cunnilingus, riding, hair pulling, knotting, buckets of cum, biting kink, slight impregnation kink, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ disclaimer: first fic back after a long hiatus and i’m suddenly v nervous to post this!! also this is shamelessly and 100% inspired by an episode of the show outlander (to be exact, the wedding episode). i couldn’t help myself!! 

“Are you serious right now?”

In hindsight, being friends with a pack of werewolves and, thus, suddenly being thrown into a world of supernatural furries and other inhuman beings isn’t something you would recommend but it was too late to back out now, especially when you consider the fact that apparently you’re now being “hunted.” Whatever that means.

Had you heard yourself speak a year ago before meeting Taehyung and having your life turned upside down, you would have surely thought you were insane, and you would have definitely thought Taehyung is insane, and the rest of his friends who are, subsequently, now yours ━ each of whom are all currently splayed out before you in Namjoon’s spacious country-side home with similar grave looks staring back at you.

“Dead serious,” Hoseok takes the liberty of breaking the odd silence saturating the kitchen. He’s made it a point to be on time for once, which you consider great and all if it wasn’t basically to dispute your current death sentence. “Always thought Jaebum’s pack were sons of bitches ━ glad to know it’s still true.”

“Hoseok,” Yoongi scolds. “Be a little more compassionate.”

“Am I wrong?” Hoseok refutes.

From off to the side, Jimin pushes himself forward with a frustrated groan, shaking his head. “Tae, I told you this was a dumb fucking idea ━ bringing Y/N into the pack━”

“I didn’t think this would happen,” Taehyung protests hotly. He’s leaning against the wall somewhere behind you, arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown darkening his face.

“How could you not think this would happen?” Jungkook retorts bitterly.

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“She’s a human,” Jungkook says. “Jaebum wants her gone, but if he were to get his hands on her, then who knows what could happen━”

“I said shut up, Jungkook,” Taehyung snarls, an odd vehement tone dripping from his every word that is out of the place for the usually tranquil boy. Jungkook’s mouth clamps shut at once, though you suspect it’s not to do with defeat more so than because he’s the newest addition to the pack and, while Namjoon is their leader (or Alpha, as you’ve heard being thrown around before), Taehyung was something of a second-in-command. You could only imagine the consequences of crossing either Namjoon or Taehyung within the pack.

“Hold on a second,” You try to sputter for air, lungs wheezing. Your mind has since been spinning, struggling to keep up. At first you thought they were joking when they had told you, but now you were beginning to understand the severity at the very least. “I’m being hunted? Why?”

Now, Namjoon looks from Taehyung, then to you, and back again. Taehyung hesitates to answer at first, and Jungkook scowls. “Well, tell her, Tae. You dragged her into this mess. She deserves to hear it from you.”

As you twist in your seat to look up at Taehyung, your eyes locking briefly with his, the boy grimaces and then has to look away. He takes a deep breath before responding. “Okay, look. You know that pack I told you about? Jaebum’s?”

You nod, though the memory is vague. You’ve heard the name in passing before, but you could only gather that there was some sort of animosity between his and Taehyung’s pack.

“He found out about you, and I don’t know how,” Taehyung explains. “And now he wants you gone, and he’ll do anything to see it through.”

You blink once, dumbfounded. Terrified, even. Taehyung can certainly hear it in your voice and it makes him flinch again, as if being striked across the face. “Why?”

“Because you’re not one of us,” Taehyung says. “Because you’re human. When I first told you about us, I was risking everything. It’s uncommon for one of us to bring a human into the pack just because, and often even frowned upon. There’s a fear you’ll expose us to the human world or the hunters. Jaebum’s threatening to start war if we don’t deal with this situation ourselves.”

It’s only then that the dread begins to creep upon you, chilling you to the bone. “Deal with it… how?”

“The ultimatum is either kill you ourselves, or give you over to Jaebum to deal with, as a sort of peace offering,” Namjoon says carefully.

“Which probably also results in death,” Hoseok points out morbidly.

Jin scoffs. “Or worse.”

“Is there any option that doesn’t result in death?” You ask warily. At this, the group falls silent once more.

“Well, there is one.” Namjoon glances fleetingly around at his brethren, then sighs. “You become one of us.”

“I━” You stammer, face suddenly hot. “You mean, like, a werewolf?”

“I mean, a wedding.”

“A wedding?” You gasp. “How is that going to save me?”

“Not a wedding like you think,” Namjoon says. “More of a bonding. A handfasting. Right now, as a human, you’re vulnerable and exposed. We have no claim over you. But if you become one of us ━ without being turned ━ then Jaebum shouldn’t be able to touch you.”

Slowly, you begin to piece together the fragment of your dilemma. “Marry who?”

A beat of silence passes amongst the group in which time you spot Namjoon nod in the direction of Taehyung’s figure beyond you, a wordless yet clear gesture. Suddenly, a stubborn warmth of a blush pinches at your cheeks. You wonder if they can notice, if Taehyung can notice. You start, “Taehyung━?”

“He offered to be the one,” Namjoon says. “And Jaebum knows Taehyung’s role in the pack. If he knows you’re mated to Tae, Jaebum would be absolutely insane to try and come for you. It’s the only way, Y/N, and it ensures your safety.”

“Marrying Taehyung?” You ask shrilly, voice dangerously thin. “How is marrying Taehyung going to ensure my safety?”

“It’s not just a marriage,” Jimin explains.

But of course you already know this, werewolf laws a strange and intricate jumble of rules that you’ve long since grown accustomed to. When he speaks next, you already know it’s much more than a marriage; and, when he speaks next, you fear you’ve already had your fate decided for you.

“It’s not just a marriage,” Namjoon repeats, matter-of-fact, “because we’re making you Taehyung’s mate.”

“You didn’t have to do this.”

You try not to think about it. Admittedly, marrying your friend who you have only known for a year isn’t something you had been expecting. But, as Namjoon had explained it, it wasn’t necessarily a legal unification between you and Taehyung, though you suppose it’s as valid now as any marriage with the ritualistic handfasting ceremony making it official. That, and you favoured living to see another day instead of becoming a werewolf’s next meal or ripped to shreds by one.

Only a day after your conversation with the boys of Taehyung’s pack, you’ve come to your ultimate decision which has led you to where you are now, returning to Namjoon’s home for a wedding. Your wedding. You hadn’t very long to decide your own fate anyway, with the boys grimly warning you it was now or never. But you trust them, despite this crazed ludicrous situation you find yourself in ━ and you trust Taehyung more than anything, your friendship with him having quickly blossomed into something so sincerely profound over the year that you’ve known him.

If you’re being honest, Namjoon’s pack had at least made an effort for the occasion because despite how unconventional it is, it was still a celebration. A celebration for your marriage, and a celebration for their hopeful victory over Jaebum. Still, the underlying threat of the evening remains, made more prevalent by the fact that it was required to invite at least another pack (of which you’ve met the leader, Jisoo, a handful of times before) as witnesses. It’s a simple ceremony too, quaint and cute if you weren’t clinging to life. You had made it a point to dress up, digging a pretty white dress from the depths of your closet with flowing butterfly-like sleeves; Taehyung had forgone a suit but was still handsomely dressed too, leaving you to feel like less of an idiot. Namjoon had officiated it, standing before you and Taehyung as you held one another’s hand, wrapped delicately in ribbon, listening to the vows being proclaimed that talked about true love, and the passion and yearning involved.

When the handfasting finally draws to a close, you’re shoved into a room alone with Taehyung for a moment of privacy by Hoseok, who can be heard quipping wolfishly, “Get it over with quick!” before vanishing behind the closed door. You wager he’s left to join with the rest of the festivities outside where, no doubt, every werewolf is currently drinking themselves blind.

Finally alone with Taehyung, a saturated silence fills the air that has you wringing your hands anxiously in front of you. You sit on the edge of the bed in the center of the room. “What other choice was there, Tae?”

Taehyung takes a moment to respond, and even he knows the thought is a useless one when it crosses his mind before voicing it aloud. “We could have ran away.”

“How far would we get?” You sigh. Still, the sorrow earnest in his voice and riddling his face is enough to make you look up at him sympathetically. “I’m no use to you if Jaebum or someone worse finds us by ourselves. Besides, the boys need you.”

“No, you need me,” Taehyung insists. “Jungkook’s right. I dragged you and the pack into this mess. It’s my responsibility to fix this.”

He drags his feet towards the bed, then flops down onto his back on the mattress. A troubled groan punctuates the air, and you sneak a glance behind you to see him rubbing warily at his eyes.

You decide now would be the best time to ask the one question that has been on your mind since the night before when you were sitting in Namjoon’s kitchen to discuss Jaebum’s scorn. “Is that why… Is that why you offered to be my mate?”

“Yes,” Taehyung admits meekly. “Sort of. Think we’d all rather it be me than Joon, anyway.”

You don’t argue with this. The reasons as to why it had to be Taehyung satisfied you well enough. That, and aside from having befriended the pack over the months, you’re much closer to Taehyung than you are with the others.

“So…” You trail off, clearing your throat. At this point, you’re simply speaking for the sake of filling the void. “What now?”

Taehyung shrugs. He looks around the room. “Nothing.”

“Well, what did Hoseok mean just now? Get what over with?”

“Erm━” Taehyung opens his mouth, as if preparing to explain, then decides otherwise. “It’s nothing.”

“Taehyung, we literally just got married and you’re already keeping secrets from me,” You retort. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he insists. “It’s just that… Well…” He sits up from the bed, meeting your curious gaze. “This was essentially a mating, and every mating needs to be seen through to the end to be considered valid. The pack can tell when it’s… uh… done.”

Oh.

Now it hits you. It’s the way he awkwardly trails off, hand ruffling through his long locks, that has you immediately understanding what he’s trying to imply. You gawk upward at him. “Are you asking me to sleep with you?”

Suddenly, Taehyung looks flustered and he shakes his head frantically. “I mean, they expect it, but I would never force it on you.” Then, he straightens up, as if captivated by a newfound confidence. The smallest of smirks dances upon his lips that you don’t miss. “Besides, I never said it had to be between you and me. As long as they can sense it, I’d say your hand would do just fine instead ━ but you have all night for that.”

“Oh my god.”

The smirk widens into a devious look now. “You said you wanted honesty.”

As he dissolves into a fit of stifled chuckles, you scowl but you wager it’s mostly an attempt to hide the frazzled look on your face. Then, hurrying to change the topic, ask, “Is every mating like that then?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung admits. “If two mates want to stay together forever, they complete the process with marking, usually by a bite. It strengthens the mating bond.”

Taehyung notices you squirm in your spot, crossing your knee over the other and squeezing your thighs together. He can sense you’re uncomfortable, understandably with your current situation, but can’t quite pinpoint what else seems to make you sit so rigidly.

“What was it like for you?” He decides to ask. “The handfasting?”

The question takes you by surprise, though his sincere intrigue makes you smile smally to yourself. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before, but it was… It was nice.” You think back to nearly an hour ago, and the way Taehyung had looked standing before you. While you were marrying him out of necessity, there was something candidly beautiful about the entire ceremony. At the very least, you were glad it had been with Taehyung of all people. “Can I be honest with you, Tae?”

“Of course,” Taehyung says. “At this point, you can pretty much tell me anything. Don’t think anything’s as shocking as coming out as a werewolf.”

An innocent giggle bubbles at your throat. Suddenly, you look sheepish. “I might have had one too many glasses of wine before coming.”

“Ah.” Despite the interested hum of noise, he looks genuinely entertained. “So you’re drunk?”

“Not quite. Pleasantly buzzed,” You say. “Well, can you blame me? The occasion called for it considering a bunch of wolves want to kill me and I’m being arranged into a marriage.”

“So you don’t remember anything about your own wedding?”

You pull a face, though Taehyung gathers it’s because of the blunt mention of the word. “I do. Just… not all of it. Some things are clearer than others, but I think that’s mostly because I was nervous.”

“I remember every moment,” Taehyung muses thoughtfully. “I remember seeing you there, in your dress, and everything felt right despite it all.” His stare hardens in that moment, as if probed by the harsh reminder of the reasoning behind the night in the first place. “You know I’ll do anything to keep you safe, right? We haven’t had time to sit back and talk it over but you really do mean the world to me.”

A muffled groan eclipses your lips. You dig the heels of your palms against your eyes as you bemoan, “Don’t say those kinds of things, Tae.”

“Why?”

“Because… Because…” Your eyes shoot open, though suddenly you refuse to meet his curious wandering gaze.

But Taehyung doesn’t even need you to finish your thought. You wonder if it’s one of the many keen abilities possessed by these shapeshifters or if it’s simply a Taehyung thing, being that he’s quickly become one of your closest friends over the year that you’ve known him.  

“You’re still nervous,” he hums as delicately as possible. It’s not an accusation, but a simple fact of the matter. He pushes himself to sit on the edge of the bed beside you, leaving an appropriate amount of space between the two of you. “Are you nervous because of me?”

“No.”

“That’s a lie,” Taehyung snorts. When you don’t respond immediately, a small inkling of a doubt makes him question apprehensively, “Are you scared of me then? I wouldn’t blame you, especially after everything that’s been going on━”

“What?” You finally turn to look at him, a look of incredulousness contorting your face. “No! No, I’m not scared of you, Tae. I could never be scared of you.” You don’t dare turn to face him, instead keeping your eyes fixed on your hands as you continue. “You make me nervous, but not in a bad way. Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.” When you chance a look at him, you find him smiling softly to himself. “It’s the same way I felt when I saw you earlier tonight.”

Your heart quickens in pace against your chest, and you’re almost positive he can surely hear it. Now, you finally lift your timid stare to meet his pensive look, and you have to bite back the smile that threatens to form on your face. He looks distracted, though not in a way where his mind is elsewhere entirely; instead, he seems besotted, dark eyes shimmering gently, and there’s a palpable shift of energy in the atmosphere.

Without even realizing it, the pair of you begin to gravitate towards one another, leaning in close enough to shorten the distance between the two of you. You pause, lingering near enough to feel his warm breath fanning against your neck. He can’t help himself, and reaches out with his hand to brush his fingers along your shoulder to the base of your throat, sending chills down your spine. His hand comes to rest against your neck, fingers stretching outward to cradle the back of your head. He guides you toward him this time, closer and closer.

“Taehyung…” You whisper.

He stops at once, clamps his mouth shut and squeezes his eyes closed. His restraint seems to be not without labour, judging by the sobering small shake of his head, and the way he leans his forehead against yours, tendons in his jaw fluttering as he clenches his teeth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t.”

“I want you to.”

He’s startled when you’re the one that moves first, catching his lips onto yours. He’s unmoving at first, basking in the feel and taste of your mouth smoothing over his. It’s slow, steady, but then he’s craning his neck to deepen the kiss and something feverish overtakes the both of you. You clamber onto his lap at once, swinging one leg over his and settling back onto him, your dress bunching up at your thighs. He’s taken aback for a moment, though his hands instinctively come to grip at your waist and you try not to focus on how large and warm they feel, burning against the material of your dress. In fact, every inch of him radiates a thermal energy that is both comforting and excites you. You chase his lips, yearning for another kiss, but he hesitates at the last moment, jerking his head away. He doesn’t move very far at first, then he drops his head into the crook of your neck. His nose burrows against the base of your throat, his lips brushing against your skin as he moves along your neck to your shoulder, then back again. You can tell he’s holding himself back, not quite allowing himself to enjoy this. To enjoy you.

“You said we have all night, didn’t you?” You rasp. “So why not start now?”

“I also said it didn’t have to be between you and me if you didn’t want it to be.” Taehyung finds his voice at long last, however hoarse it may be. You’re already driving him crazy, just by your smell alone. “Are you sure? You said you wanted honesty, so be honest with me, Y/N. Don’t just say it’s because it has to be done. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“Well, don’t you want this?” You question.

“Fuck, yes.” He groans against your neck. Something feral seems to stir within him, and you can feel his canines bare against your skin. “But only if you do.”

You aren’t quite sure what seems to possess you all of a sudden. He’s intoxicating, you think. Your hands tug at his hair now, desperation wearing your own voice thin. “Yes, Tae. Please. I want you inside me so badly.”

Finally, he presses his mouth against your throat, tonguing hot open-mouthed kisses there. His grip tightens around your waist, tugging you harder against him, and the feeling of him growing harder against your inner thigh in a matter of seconds has you both enraptured by a newfound heated ferocity.

Grasping at a moment of clarity, you ask meekly, “Isn’t this your first time?”

“Is it that obvious?”

You want to tell him anything but, the way his hands and lips move across you an indicator of that. “I thought you wolves are all about sex. Don’t you, like, go into heat or something?”

It’s a feeble attempt at a snarky joke, judging by the way your lips unfurl into a languid smirk. “Typically. But I never wanted sex for the sake of fucking. The boys make fun of me all the time for it.”

You snicker, but the delightful noise is lost in a simper as he continues to kiss upward to the underside of your jaw. He grips tightly at your waist and moves, shifting the two of you around, until your back is splayed out on the edge of the bed and he’s hovering directly over you.

“Taehyung…” He grunts in response, though you don’t blame him for not responding. The way his cock bulges against your core now, the way you press your hips up into his instinctively, is enough to drive you insane, let alone the boy. Still, you manage to rasp, “Tae, just don’t bite me. Promise me.”

“I won’t,” he assures, though now he certainly seems preoccupied. He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring, and whines aloud, “God, I can already smell you. So fucking good.”

His head falls into the crook of your neck as his hips dig harshly into yours in a way that makes you aware of what his words seem to mean. Slick arousal already begins to form between your legs, pooling into a mess on your underwear that has you squirming beneath him. The thought of him being able to smell you makes your face heat, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He kisses down to your collarbones, then, without warning, flips you over at once. Rough hands grasp at your waist, pulling you to your knees and your ass off the edge of the bed. As he fumbles to tear your panties from your hips, then lifts the skirt of your dress up with one hand, he hurries to undo his belt and the button of his pants with the other.

“Wait, Tae━” You gasp. Before he can push himself into you, you heave yourself up with your hands and twist just enough to place your palm above his waist on his abdomen, stopping him in his place. “What are you doing?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, brows creasing with concern. “Isn’t this how it’s done? I’m not totally helpless.”

You bite back your abrupt grin, swallowing your amusement when you realize he’s genuinely confused. It’s hard to grasp how he can look so innocent even despite his leaking cock still in his hand. “Well, yeah, but not always.”

“I just thought it was like how dogs go at it, y’know?” Taehyung says. “The guys all seem to say so anyway.”

You can’t help it now when this newfound information has you keeling over with laughter. You’re fortunate he doesn’t seem offended by your delight, instead grinning sheepishly to himself as he watches you wipe tears away from your eyes.

“What?” he asks promptly, and then as if to nudge you back to reality, tightens his grip on your waist and yanks you towards him gingerly. Pressing his front flush against your back, he catches your ear lobe between his teeth and nibbles on it.

“Then I feel sorry for their mates,” You manage to choke out. “It’s not bad, but I want to be able to see you the first time around. It’s better that way. More intimate.”

You squirm out from beneath him, turning to face him properly. Still sprawled out before him, you prop yourself up on your elbow and then reach out with your other hand to grab at his face and pull him down to you.

“Noted,” he hums into your mouth. “Anything else I should know?”

“Nothing that I can think of at the moment,” You admit, though maybe that’s simply because your mind is spinning at the sight of his length.

He’s much, much bigger than you imagined, tip irritated and swollen red already, glistening with precum as he swipes his palm over himself a handful of times. You hike your dress up further around your waist as he guides himself towards you.

“Stop me if it hurts,” he says.

You nod, though you trust him well enough to know he’ll treat you right in the best way possible. As he pushes the tip of his length against your folds and into you, your reactions are almost immediate. He ceases above you, face scrunching up at the feeling of your slickness around him. You notice his furrowed brows, the way he bares his teeth. A guttural growl sounds deep within his chest that has you shuddering in anticipation.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans. “You’re so fucking wet. You take me so well, baby. I don’t think I’ll last long.”

“Don’t care,” You whimper. “Just wanna feel you.”

He pushes himself in further, slowly and carefully, inch-by-inch, in just a way that has the both of you feeling how he stretches you open every single step of the way. You wonder how much further you can go until he’s stopping, bottoming out within you. He sputters for air, collapsing against your chest entirely as you fall back onto the bed. He waits just enough for you to adjust to the girth of his weight in you, then rolls his hips into yours. Then again, and again, until he’s grinding into you with such measured and deep strokes that you melt beneath him entirely. You kick your legs up to wrap around his waist, head lolling back at the feeling of his mouth sucking against your throat.

“I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off then into an abrupt cry. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum━”

He’s quick to dissolve into shambles, grunting and moaning every time you clench around him and every thrust of his hips. Just when you think you’ve lost yourself to the moment, he cums much faster than you thought and entirely unexpected for him too, in hot waves that have you still writhing beneath him. When he’s spent, his weight falls slack against you, crushing you beneath him but in a comforting manner. It’s silently peaceful for a few moments as he settles, heart thundering in his chest and against yours. Your fingers smooth over his sweaty long locks, scratching at his head. Then━

“That was terrible, wasn’t it?” he mutters wretchedly.

“Not terrible,” You confess. “What was that? Three minutes, top? For your first time, I’m honestly surprised you lasted more than a minute.”

“Fuck off.” His fingers poke at your sides teasingly as you burst out into laughter. He lifts his head to meet yours, perhaps a little embarrassed. “Don’t tell the guys. They’ll never let me live it down.”

“Doesn’t matter,” You hum, tracing your finger down to his lips. “We can practice whenever you want. I’ll make you into a lover so good, you’ll want me to brag to them.”

“Practice, huh?” His eyes sparkle mischievously. He pulls himself from your core and you hiss at the sudden loss, tugging at his chest as if to keep him close to you but he seems to have other plans. “Why stop now?”

You watch him curiously. “Easy there, boy. Don’t wear yourself out.”

“Well, I have to make it up to you,” he points out. “Especially on your wedding night. It’s only fair. What kind of lousy mate would I be to call it a night without having you cum on my face?”

“Romantic.” You roll your eyes but you marvel at the way you had shuddered at the word only moments ago and now, under such a different circumstance, the way he utters it makes your heart flutter in your chest. “Is this the first time you’ve eaten a girl out?”

“I said I was a virgin,” he says. Your eyes stay trained on the boy as he shifts himself further down your body to wedge himself between your thighs, throwing one leg over his shoulder. He kisses at your navel, then down to your core. He takes his time as he reaches out with his fingers to swipe at your folds, admiring the way his cum leaks from you; then, with his forefinger, he wipes at a stray bead of his arousal and pushes it back into your cunt slowly. The simple action is enough to have your back arching off the bed, hands flying out to brace yourself by gripping at his hair. “I never said I didn’t know how to please a woman elsewhere.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Gladly.”

He sinks lower to your core and out of sight, leaving hot open mouthed kisses along the way. His finger never once leaves its spot within you, and instead is joined by another that spreads you wide in absence of his cock.

“Do you know how hard it is to focus on anything other than your beautiful cunt?” he asks, voice low and sultry. “From the moment I could smell you, I wanted a taste.”

His tongue probes against your clit, the wet muscle a sudden startle that has you slackening against him. He flicks it back and forth, mouth wrapping around the bundle of nerves and sucking hard. A moan threatens to fall from your lips but an intrusive thought crossing your mind has you swallowing it with much difficulty.

“Can’t the boys hear us from down there?” You ask. You wonder how the celebration for your “wedding” has unfolded over the night without you or Taehyung there, or if they even notice your prolonged absence.

“No.” His voice is a deep mumble, rattling you from your core outward. “We learn how to tune out sounds nearby unless we really want to pay attention. The new ones struggle a bit, though.”

He curls his fingers inside you, stretching them upward. You pant, “Isn’t Jungkook still new?”

You can feel his smirk unfurling against you even before he pokes his head up to look at you with devious, hooded eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s a bit of a hazing process.”

You hardly have time to register the thought, though it doesn’t matter much. You’re far too overwhelmed by the way Taehyung is making you feel to even care. He drops his mouth from your clit to your folds, tongue swirling against your aching core. He laps at your cunt like a mangy dog as his fingers continue to work within you. The further he burrows into you, the harder his nose digs against your clit and sends you over the edge. You try to hold on just a little longer but your core is already achingly sensitive from when his length had made it home.

“Cum for me,” he murmurs. “Don’t hold back, baby. Let me taste you.”

Fingers twisting in his hair, he growls roughly against you, basking in the way you mewl and moan his name. Time seems to blur and, before you know it, you’ve reached your high. You’re embarrassingly wet, soaking his chin and nose which glistens with a mixture of yours and his arousal. Taehyung doesn’t hold back, instead licking you clean of every last drop, a muffled moan of content emitting from him.

“So good,” he says. “All mine.”

When he finally pulls away from you, he licks at his lips as if not quite finished with your every taste. From where he sits, you’re an entire mess, brows scrunched in concentration, teeth tugging at your lower lip. Needy hands yank at his hair and he obliges, kissing his way up your body to meet your mouth. His tongue pokes through to lav at your lips and wedges itself beyond, and you suck delightfully at the taste of you and him mingling on it. His own hands caress your body, bringing you back down from your high gradually but you can still feel his straining dick against your thigh and it invigorates you even further despite the beginning hints of exhaustion starting to creep upon you.

“Want more,” Taehyung growls with a newfound intensity, catching you off guard. “Need your cunt. M’gonna make it mine. Need to make you mine. Gonna fill you with my cum till you’re bursting with my pups, how does that sound?”

Mind spinning, you nod eagerly at the thought. Your words form in the shape of a moan. “Yes, please.”

“Gotta get this dress off first,” he mutters, greedy palms wandering up beneath the hem of your dress.

You scurry to obey, helping him slide the dress off your arms and toss it away on the floor. He’s more than pleased to see that you had decided to forgo wearing a bra earlier in the day, and reaches out at once to grasp at your perked breasts in his large palm. He buries his face into your chest, catching one of your nipples between his teeth. He busies himself by marking your chest red with small nibbles until you grow impatient, tugging at the shirt he’s still wearing. He’s quick to oblige, shedding himself of his clothes; then, his nails are digging viciously into your hips as he flips the two of you over with incredible ease.

“Sit on my cock,” he snarls into your ear. “Need to feel you again.”

Legs weak from your past orgasm and the huskiness of his voice, you sidle onto his lap, tossing one thigh over his. He sits up to join you and helps push himself past your folds, though you finish by settling back on his length carefully until you’re filled to the brim. Despite already knowing what to expect from the first time around, you still shudder at the feeling, mouth unhinging as you roll your hips leisurely against his. He hardly strays from your body, instead continuing to kiss between the valley of your breasts and up to the underside of your jaw and back again. Fingers poke and prod at your body as they follow his lips, then grasp at your ass to push you closer to him each time you grind against him.

Just when you begin grinding against him in a new angle that makes you moan into his ear, a sudden noise startles the both of you but only just. It takes you both a moment to register it’s the sound of knocking on the other side of the bedroom door (that you can’t remember if Taehyung had locked, because you certainly hadn’t), followed by Jimin’s familiar voice. “Joon said he wanted us to check in on you!”

Taehyung immediately groans into your neck out of frustration, though you suspect it’s because your pace starts to stutter and not because of his bothersome friends.

“Taehyung,” You bite at your lip in an attempt to hide your moans. You tug at his hair, as if to portray what your words fail to do, but he can hear it plainly riddling your voice. The concern, and the sudden shyness, as if fearing Jimin may walk in. But part of you is thrilled at the thought, and judging by the way your unabashed cry of glee slips from your lips without much hiding is proof of that. “Oh, Tae━”

“Shit,” Taehyung’s muffled grunts of pleasure and the way his hips continue to dig into yours to meet your efforts makes you aware Jimin is the least of his current troubles. “Fucking hell━ Don’t stop.”

“Are you guys okay in there?” Now comes Hoseok’s voice, a little faint but undeniably there. Can they hear you? Do they care? They must know what’s happening beyond the door.

“They’re doing it on purpose. Fucking idiots,” Taehyung snarls as he slams his hips up into yours. A contented whimper falls from your mouth, and you cling to him tighter as you quicken your pace. Taehyung grabs at your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes fixed on him despite wandering to the door. “Look at you fucking yourself on me still even with them listening. Such a good girl, huh? So desperate for my cock, aren’t you? Gonna breed so well.”

You think Hoseok and Jimin give up and leave at some point, though you don’t recall when. Instead, in the next moment, something primitive seems to awaken in Taehyung once more and he’s shoving you onto your back on the bed. Kneeling before you, he pummels his hips into yours again and again until you’re only crying his name.

“Mine. All mine,” he growls. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

So wearied from your first high, you tumble easily to your second, coming undone in a matter of seconds, spurred on by the lewd wet noises of his length thrusting into you.

“That’s it, baby,” he mutters, basking in the sound of your moans. “Fuck━ Let them all know who you belong to━”

But just when you think Taehyung has reached his own orgasm ━ sputtering for air and crescendoing in moans of your names, panting hot breath into your ear as he leans against your chest ━ he doesn’t. His thrusts become desperate and sloppy, bordering on frantic, that the soreness between your legs begins to burn. It’s an amalgamation of stubborn yet bearable pain and something harshly pleasant that has your head lolling back.

“What’s wrong?” You moan, blindly tugging at his hair. “Taehyung?”

“I can’t━” He cries out. “I can’t━ I’m so fucking hard, it hurts. I don’t know what’s wrong━”

Confused yet too tired to keep up, you reach out to smooth your fingers across his back. “It’s okay. Just let go, baby. Cum for me, Tae. Please.”

“I’m trying,” he chokes out. “I just can’t━”

Your mind works in a haze to understand what’s happening, but through it all you’re able to discern one reasonable thought. What had Taehyung said about matings and bonds? Aside from the obvious of sleeping with a mate, he had said that typically certain bonds require marking. But he had also said that marking proved to be almost irreversible, resulting in a connection so close that a pair of mates would be together forever. It was a troublesome concept to think about, especially when considering you didn’t think you were a fit match for Taehyung if only because you’re human.

But is that what he needed? The physical strain he puts himself under now to reach his high is almost unbearable to watch. So, you settle on a whim of a decision and conclude that you won’t think of any consequences until after the fact, only wanting to see the poor boy in relief.

“Tae,” You whisper. “What if you bite me?”

“I won’t,” Taehyung says through gritted teeth. His pace has slowed as he slumps against your chest in nearing defeat. “You told me not to.”

“I don’t care,” You retort. “Just bite me.”

He hesitates, lifting his gaze to look at you. When he sees your earnest zeal, he grimaces as if despising that this is his only option. Still, the look of relief that crosses his face is undeniably there. He presses his mouth against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your flesh as he grazes the smooth expanse for a spot, sharp canines poking against you. You brace yourself for the bite, though the pain isn’t as bad as you had thought. A sharp jolt runs down your spine as he sinks his teeth into your skin, and his reaction is immediate, crumbling into pitiful moans of glory.

“Fuck!” he wails. With one final slam of his hips into yours, he finally reaches his high and it’s unlike anything you have felt before. As if he begins to swell within you, his length pulsates as he cums in you to the point where you can’t help but feel so full. It overflows and leaks from your core and onto the sheets, a sticky mess that lingers even long after he’s done. Your mouth pops open at the foreign feeling, whimpering his name.

“I’m sorry,” he flinches. “I’m sorry, does it hurt?”

“No,” You manage to say. “It just… It feels so good━”

He sluggishly rides out the rest of his high until you both physically can’t take anymore. When he hears you hiss his name in a soft reminder, he apologizes once more. Then, as the room falls oddly silent, he slumps against you. He lavs his tongue over the fresh mark on your neck, the gentle motion alleviating the sting left behind. As Taehyung settles finally, he shifts his head to look up at you. You note the faint yellow hue lingering in his eyes, fading now.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “We might have to stay like this for a while.”

“Can’t say I’m mad about that,” You croon sleepily. “You better draw me a bath after this.”

He laughs, rubbing gentle circles against your hips. “Of course. I’ll do anything for you.”

You believe him wholeheartedly when he says it, smiling against his mouth when he leans in for a kiss. His tender wandering hands over your body does wonders in calming your shrill heart, the stretch between your legs, and the bite on your neck. He nuzzles his face into your collarbones, the tip of his nose tickling against you. As your fingers rake through his hair and scratch at his head, he mewls in content.

“Is it always like that?” You ask through a stifled yawn. “You had so much energy, I could barely keep up.”

“No,” he admits groggily. “It’s only like that when you’re mated with someone.”

“What does that even mean anyway?” You ask. “To be mated with someone?”

“Well, it’s━ It’s not really a conscious decision. It sort of just happens,” Taehyung says. “It’s a connection. You gravitate towards one another. You can’t live without the other. We call it imprinting. Sometimes you’re mated to a person who doesn’t even want you, but those are rare instances.”

“So we’re the exception?”

“I thought we were,” Taehyung trails off now. He finally lifts his head to look at you, perhaps a little embarrassed. “I━ Well━ All of this, and especially the bite, doesn’t just happen ━ and definitely not with humans.”

“Oh.” You blush now, face warming under the boy’s introspective stare. “So you’re saying we’re…”

“I always thought there was a connection, but I didn’t think it meant this,” Taehyung murmurs to himself. “As crazy as it sounds, I think we were meant to be.”

“So the bite…”

You don’t finish your thought, instead already having pieced it together in your mind. It does sound crazy, but even you have felt it before. A strange connection to Taehyung, far more exceptional than simply having feelings for him. And the bite is what draws it all together, proving his point and your previous speculations about some sort of affection between the two of you.  

“Are you starting to regret this now?” Taehyung asks sheepishly, a weak attempt at a joke to what he had asked you earlier in the night.  

He braces himself, as if waiting for your outburst of annoyance or anger. To push him off of you and leave forever. But you do neither, instead reaching out to grasp at his face in both of your hands. You delicately lift his head, meeting his docile stare, entirely and utterly bewitched by him.

“No,” You say earnestly. “I couldn’t have asked for a better night.” A smile forms on his face, innocent and ardent in nature. “I’m just wondering how I’ll hide the mark.”

“I think there’s little to hide now after tonight,” Taehyung grins wolfishly. “Especially with the boys.” 

He quivers with laughter at the sight of your scowling face and fingers poking at his sides. As he settles, he leans into your ear to hum, “I’ll make it up to you. Everything. Jaebum, the bite, the boys. But I think you should rest now. We’ll deal with all of that later.”

You don’t argue with that. You’ve already begun to fight the beginnings of sleep, eyelids drooping and itching with a need to just close them ━ and with Taehyung’s arms wrapped around you, his body emitting a pleasurable heat, you decide there’s no place else you’d rather be, moonstruck and in love.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!